The Blind Man's Afterimage
by Canadian Apologies
Summary: High school senior Matthew Williams is about to graduate, but he doesn't really know where he belongs in the world. That is, until he meets the infamous bad boy, Gilbert Beilschmidt. Everything is crazy and hectic, but the best part? For the first time in a long time, someone genuinely cares about him, and that's enough for Matthew.
1. Chapter 1

"Ah, it's too early in the morning for this" The golden haired blond with an unruly tuft of hair emerges from his bedroom, yawing and knocking on entering a bedroom door next to his. "Yo, Mattie! Gotta get up for school!"

The sandy teen regretfully approaches a bed and ripped the blankets off of the subject of conversation, revealing a sleeping, wheat blond teen of the same age and face. He growls and the boy with the cowlick stepped away, his seawater eyes wrinkle.

"Bro," he begins. "You okay?"

The other blond sits up and traces his lengthy fingers through his hair, a rebellious curl bounces back to its position. He snarles, his teeth bare as he retorts, "What is it?"

"Time for school," the brother complies.

Curly-Q sluggishly drops the hand that ran laps on his scalp back onto the bed and hangs his head low. He asks, "What time is it?"

"Uh, 'bout six thirty."

A scream rings out and a pillow implants itself in the playboy's chest. "_Get the hell out of here, Alfred!"_

Alfred stumbles out of the room and races down the staircase, the other boy listens to him trip down a few steps. He tunes his ears to range his brother's compliant to his mother. _Oh shit._

"_Matthew Williams! If you don't get your ass out of that bed, so help me God I'll come there myself!"_ an older female's voice bellows. Matthew jumps up as commanded and stumbles onward to his dresser, clinging for support from his fatigue.

He rubs his eyes for clarity while retrieving his rimless, circular bifocals, and slides them up to the bridge of his nose. Matthew walks to his closet and tosses out some of his clothing deemed suitable for the public eye. What he ended up with was messy a pile of his high school's uniform.

He bends down and pulls his outfit with his movement. Matthew kicks his pajama bottoms off and slips into the new ones, balanced on one foot to reach down to get his regular old t-shirt as an undershirt. His mind plays cat–and–mouse as he tries to pick, but ultimately decides to wear the usual white button down and tan pullover.

As he fixtuates his ensemble, Matthew walks hazily to the bathroom to brush his teeth and inspect his appearance a final time in the mirror. He glances at himself, his arms lazily holding his upper body propped up against the counter. "Ugh, _bags_," Matthew complains as he prods his under eyes. "Or in other words, everybody's way of knowing I was on Tumblr all last night."

He wipes his eyes again, wavering to and fro when he tries to stand straight. As Matthew teeters, he lets his feet guide him downstairs like a drunk couple coming out of the bar, holding onto each other to make love in the backseat in their car. He strides into the kitchen and presents himself, his brother taking notice.

"Hey, Mattie!" Alfred mocks. He nods to their mother in the kitchen and asks, "Do you want some pancakes, eh?"

"Shut up," Mattie sasses. "And thanks for the wake up call, snitch."

Alfred widens his eyes and the same woman's voice interrupts, "It's not like I couldn't hear you, Matthew." His mother, standing idly behind the kitchen island, reprimands, "Take your medicine, darling. Before you forget."

"Okay, ma," he sasses her with his eyes. Reaching the cabinet with his Rx bottles, he swallows his daily pills without hesitation. The same thing everyday.

"Get your things and get out, now. Don't want you boys missing the bus."

"Aw, whatever," Alfred whines. Both boys check into the mudroom and slip on their shoes. Cowlick starts the conversation as they grab their school bags, disregarding his brother's exhausted disposition, "I can't sit with ya today 'cause Artie's riding the bus again today."

"When do you ever sit by me?" Matthew corrects. "I don't care."

"Really?" Al quirks a brow and stuffs his hands in his pockets, exhaling, "_Okay."_ They pace to the bus stop, and he goes on, "Are you sure? Being alone doesn't bother you?"

"Alfred, for the last time, I don't care if you sit with your little boyfriend."

Sandy haired covers his glowing cheeks with the tips of his fingers and wiggles like a hyperactive child, "Isn't he a cutie!"

Matthew sighs and remains stationary as the twins arrive at the sidewalk curb, accommodating the other high school students much like caged rabid animals. It is depressing just to look at. Everybody knows their place, not a toe out of line. He hates how he thinks, sometimes.

The mildly cooling air of autumn kisses Matthew's nose as he continues to wait, and ponder about life whilst doing so. The bus roars in with that familiar tire screech and everybody jumps on board. Matthew sits in the second seat on the left side while Alfred flies to the back to be with his British boy. Placing his messenger bag on his knees, Matthew gazes out the window and observes the scenery of city life. Maybe it will keep his distracting thoughts at bay, at least, until the medicine kicks in.

* * *

At school, Matthew slumps his way down the hallways and makes it to class with no complications. Being one of the tallest seniors, he only hopes he will not give or recieve any problems. He just wants to get through the day, as he makes a second evaluation on his mood. Matthew enters the rowdy classroom, unnoticed by most as usual, and takes his seat next to a group of other seniors.

"'Ello, Mattie!" a Frenchman across the table greets, blowing a kiss for the extra dramatics.

"Hey, Francis," Matthew brushes off the normal gesture.

"_Hola, Matthew!" _A Spaniard waves animatedly.

"Hello to you too, Antonio," Matthew looks around the room in perplexity, and a final glances at the door. "Where's your little friend?"

Francis sighs and exaggeratedly brushes his glorious blond hair off his shoulders, "Where do you think?"

Matthew places his arms on the table and raises his eyebrows. "_Again?_"

"Yeah, this time he got frustrated with an assignment in math class and decided to strip down to his underwear," Antonio continues the tale.

He wrinkles his nose at the thought of the unnamed person in the nude, and strains his gentle voice, "To prove _what?_"

"That 'the 420 life didn't need no algebra' and 'yolo','" Francis quotes with the aid of his index and middle fingers.

"Your friend's going to get put in jail someday," Matthew jokes, cracking an honest smile. "And bail isn't going to be an option, anymore."

"Yeah, now it's more or less just waiting for a phone call from the prison, these days," Francis respires in a serious manner.

The announcements begin and everybody rises to quoth, "The Pledge of Allegiance". Once finished, the senior homeroom takes their seats and talks while their morning briefings are ongoing.

Francis inhales deeply, his chin resting on his palm as he continues his tale, "And _last_ week, he got in trouble for singing 'Wrecking Ball' at the top of his lungs, right in the middle of a lecture."

"And he also got detention for hitting a kid on the head with a bible, and calling him an infidel," Antonio adds, sighing as well.

Matthew cringes his head into his neck as he reluctantly lists, "Or the time he dumped a bag of Skittles into the crotch of his pants and told the class the 'taste the rainbow'."

"Oh, right. I forgot," Francis angles his head. "You have a class with him, don't you?"

"Regretfully, yes," Matthew lowers his head. "English."

"Sucks for you. Wait, doesn't he get _really_ _angry_ in English class?"

"_So_ angry," Matthew suspires again. "He won't stop saying that German is the superior language, and then proceeding to speak fluently in it. It confuses the living shit out of me."

He smiles and turns his head, "Sounds like our Gilbert, huh, Antonio?"

"Yeah." His face becomes overwhelmed with competence, but he snaps back to reality to tell, "But I heard he has detention again today."

"Yeah, what's new?"

"Do you guys even hang out after school?" Matthew lets his head fall on his shoulder.

"No, not really," Antonio answers. "He always has detention, or is suspended for something dumb."

"So I guess _that's_ why you're always at my house."

They nod, Matthew gapes his mouth in comprehension while Antonio and Francis snort heavily through their flared nostrils. The bell rings anew and everybody drags their feet. Antonio and Francis wave goodbye to Matthew as they turn into the classroom next door.

Matthew sways into math class after riding the long hallway down to it and has his seat next to a girl. A very pretty girl. Matthew flusters as his eyes dart her way, so he refocuses his attention to the whiteboard to avoid confrontation. When he knows she is preoccupied, that's when he makes his move: taking more glances at her from the corner of his eye.

Her pretty short blonde hair frames her young face as her sapphire eyes trace up to the board, and her delicate hand writes these messages to her pen and paper. Her indifferent expression makes Matthew's heart throb, knowing his very slim chances of going out with her. She jerks her head back to the board to copy more notes and Matthew takes notice of her headband and unnecessary berets, failing to restrain her light golden locks.

She leans further onto the desk to get a clearer view of her paper and Matthew blushes as her overly exaggerated breasts press against the desk corners. He decides to get out his own paper and copy the board as well, instead of appearing like an awful stalker, looking at the girl he'll never have a chance with on his entire life. She probably only thinks of him as family, considering their cozy background.

_Our friendship will probably be the height of our relationship, _he theorized. _Nothing more, nothing less._

* * *

_Dammit, why can't I just go home already? _Matthew mentally complains as the lunch bell rings, the crowds growing thicker.

He snatches his backpack and heads for the lunchroom, ignoring any potential interactions with anyone. He fixes the strap's tightness against his chest and keeps trucking along out the school doors. Matthew lets the crisp, late year air hit his face in a wake up call. He wanders to the outdoor cafeteria and sits at an empty table. Actually, every one of the tables are empty. Since the weather's changing, people don't want to come outside due to the cold. He respires tiredly, silently judging the tolerances of the average American.

"I mean, It's not even _that_ cold," Matthew mutters under his breath. He places his bag next to his lap and rummages through it. "I don't have my laptop, so I guess the book it is," he drifts.

Matthew fixtuates his glasses properly back onto the bridge of his nose and continues reading, completely ignoring his surroundings. Just then, a loud assortment of voices crowd over the table he first thought was the table adjacent to his. Matthew glances innocently up at the distraction and finds himself accompanied by a group of delinquents, or, the "detention club."

The "detention club" isn't an actual club, but rather the group of kids who can't seem to stay out of trouble even if you paid them. There's Christensen, the giddy boy that lets his happiness get in the way of obedience on occasion. The intimidating Cuban, Carlos, whose resting face is also his bitch face, Li Xiao, the angry Chinese looking kid. Lukas is also with them, always in trouble for doing something borderline abusive to Christensen.

"Hey there losers!" But of course, what would their little club be without their king? The loud mouthed German catches up to them, taking the last available seat next to him. "Who's this we're sitting with?" Gilbert glances over at Matthew to narrow the question.

"It's Matthew Williams," Christensen exclaims.

The older boy sews his brow together and the teen in question defends, "You know, the one from your English class?"

Gilbert's face lights up and he throws an arm over Matthew. "Oh! But how could I forget a kid like _you?_"

"What do you mean, 'a kid like you?'" Matthew inquires sternly.

"You know," Gilbert fumbles, shrugging his shoulders. "You're such a quiet dude."

Matthew looks hastily at Gilbert and turns back to the rest of the crowd, "So, what brings you guys?"

"We came outside to eat, today," Lukas explains. "Sure, when they actually let us, there are annoying, fucking leaves blowing around the fucking place." He massages his eyelid and comments, "Gonna take my fucking eye out."

"Oh c'mon, Lukas!" Christensen tries to lighten the mood, placing a firm hold on Lukas' neck from wildly swinging his arm onto his shoulder. "It could be raining!"

"Oh, it'll be raining, alright. Raining Christensen blood. Now remove your arm or I'll do it myself." Christensen places his arm back onto his own lap and puffs his crimson cheeks in embarrassment.

"Anyways," Carlos picks up the conversation. "You're the only one out here, so you're just gonna have to deal with it."

"Oh, okay," Matthew stutters as he hangs his head low.

Gilbert jerks his head to the Cuban and reprimands, "And what gives you the right to talk to him like that?"

"Ooh, _someone's_ jealous," Li comments with his relaxed facial expression, despite his fiery comment. Gilbert cringes his nose in frustration and flips the Chinese boy off.

"So you guys just hang out outside for lunch hour?" Matthew quieres.

"Yeah! The teachers think we're a 'bad influence' on the other students, so if we wanna go out, we hafta make sure no one's there!" Christensen clarifies, emphasizing the "bad influence" part.

Gilbert crosses his shockingly muscular arms and snorts, "You think _you_ got it bad?"

"Huh?" Matthew cocks his head and knits his brow.

"All the teachers here either hate my guts or fear me." He shrugs, "That's just how it is for me."

Matthew nods his head, as he completely understands. The kid was _born_ a troublemaker, of course the teachers are going to have a problem with him.

"Yeah, but if you actually graduated," Lukas sasses, "maybe they'd like you better."

"So I'm twenty? Who gives a shit?" Gilbert slaps his hands angrily on the table. And ambiguous member of the group mutters a, "apparently you do".

"Wait, you failed a grade level?" Matthew starts to feel like he knows absolutely nothing about them, with much remorse on his part. Gilbert halts his fighting to shoot his crimson eyes down at the Canadian, making the recipient uncomfortable.

"Yeah, quite a few, actually," Gilbert sits back, relaxing his anger. "I have 'anger management issues'," he makes quotations with his fingers.

"Only that? I'm sure you have many other things wrong with you." Carlos inputs. "You're like the fucking _Hulk_, man."

Gilbert leans across the table and wavers a finger in the other boy's face. "Keep talking if you want me to shove that up your asshole."

Carlos displays his chiseled palms and sarcastically retorts, "Psh, _touchy_."

As for how the rest of lunch goes, Matthew finds it is actually pretty enjoyable. At least, for a person who never sits with anyone, anyway. He even joins in a few laughs with the delinquents, and really feels appreciated. Of course, the only people that notice him are the ones you wouldn't want to even spit in your direction. Soon after, another student comes out and beckons the band of guys.

"'Ay, shitheads! Time to come inside!" a young underclassmen female yells at the group.

"We'll get there when we get there, Liz," Gilbert's arm brushes his arm against Matthew as he waves his hand to his side to shoo her, making him flinch in surprise. She gives a menacing glare from afar, akin to an evil cat ready to pounce. Bad idea. The brunette comes charging at him and holds Gilbert in a chokehold from behind. He struggles for air and raises his hand to her arm, trying to pry her off of his throat.

"What was that, lazy ass?" she insults again, smirking triumphantly down at her victim.

"E–Elizabeth, I can't breath…" Gilbert struggles, his color shifting from red to purple. Matthew, shocked by the young girl's reaction, gets up and pulls on the German in ownership.

"L–Let go of him!" Matthew cringes his face, yanking on Gilbert's right arm to free him. This wasn't even flirting, it was downright abuse. "You're going to kill him!"

Elizabeth tilts her head and raises an eyebrow at him, releasing her death grip. "What do you mean?"

Matthew sighs a breath of relief, remaining a hold on Gilbert's forearm and wrist. "S–sorry, I just thought you were going to hurt him. It really looked like it, back there."

"Whatever, I'm getting the hell outta here," Christensen brings Lukas unwillingly along back on the way to the school and Li and Carlos follow, not to be late for detention.

Elizabeth huffs and whips around to the others, letting her long brown curls bounce with her shoulders. She was a beautiful girl, one of the most eligible in their whole high school. She was just a handful, or two.

Matthew and Gilbert glance at each other synchronously, looking down at Matthew's hold on the other boy's arm. Matthew glances into Gilbert's blood red eyes and observes the way his short choppy white hair rested messily on his head. Gilbert gapes his mouth open and yanks his hand back, defending it in dominance. Matthew turns bright pink and turns to fumble for his school bag.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! You can forgive me, eh?" Matthew apologizes, throwing his bag strap over his shoulder.

Gilbert looks back with a straight face of indifference, and replies, "No problem…"

Mattie exhales as he glances around the school courtyard, and brushes his wavy hair behind ear, looking back at Gilbert. "I, uh, I need to get back to class. W–we both do, actually—"

"No worries! I'll walk your fidgety ass back to class!" Gilbert slaps his hand on Matthew's back, causing him to slouch over due to a strong force exerted on his frail body. "It's not like I could get in anymore trouble than I am now."

Matthew and Gilbert stagger to class in silence, pausing for a moment when they reach their last class of the day. The blond rocks on his feet while the albino stuffs his hands in his pocket, turning his head to purse his lips. Matthew giggles, closing his eyes in delight.

"What the hell is so funny?" Gilbert asks harshly with an almost indistinguishable hint of sarcasm.

"Nothing. It's just," Matthew stops giggling for a second, "you kind of reminded me of Dean Winchester a second there."

"The dude from Supernatural?" he quirks a stark brow.

Taken by surprise, Matthew slits his mouth to a small smile and confirms, "Oh, so you know?"

"Sure, who hasn't?" Gil shrugs.

Actually, Matthew hasn't heard anybody else other than a few people who know what Supernatural, his favorite tv show, is all about. Except for Alfred, his brother. Although, it scares the living shit out of him, so the only person Matthew can watch the show with that knows what the hell is going on is his brother's boyfriend, Arthur Kirkland.

"Well, it was nice of you to walk me back, Gilbert," Matthew thanks.

"Well," Gilbert gets off track. "I _am_ a pretty awesome guy for that. Just tell me what I missed, okay?" he winks.

Matthew smiles and nods, finally entering the classroom and taking his place in the row of desks. For the rest of class, he catches himself thinking of the Germanic punk more than once, and smiling genuinely each time.

* * *

English class goes as normally and slow as usual, the classroom interruptions being to a minimum today, due to Gilbert's absence. Matthew rises from his desk to pack his things back into his bag just when the teacher taps him on the shoulder.

"Uh, Matthew?" a middle aged woman approaches. Matthew looks up to her and he could see her tremble in her green old lady cardigan. "Could I ask a favor of you?"

"Okay, sure. What is it?" Matthew asks, tilting his head.

The teacher becomes flustered and raises her fingernails in a loose fists to her mouth. "It was just, I saw you with Gilbert out in the hallway earlier. Talking."

"That's right," he calmly assures. "Talking."

She brushes an unruly strand of hair back. "Well, we were actually thinking—"

"We?" Matthew inquiries, puzzled.

"The staff."

"The teachers?"

"All of us." She picks up, "We were wondering, for quite some time now, actually. If you'd come to detention once in awhile."

Matthew squints his eyes, "What?"

"You're such a nice student, and we were hoping that, maybe, you'd have a good influence on the kids that keep recurring in detention classes."

"Um, sure? How would I even do that?"

"Let's head there now, I'll explain on the way." The english teacher guides Matthew by his arm and they walk briskly down the hallway. "You could just hang out there, acting aloof as you usually do. Maybe some of your calmness will rub off on them."

"Seems easy enough. But," he peers down at her depleting stance, "why me?"

They reach a group of teachers huddled in the small detention hallway who glance back at them and widen their facial expressions. The group hurries to Matthew and the English instructor and looking to them like their Messiah.

"So," one of these teachers begins. "Did you get him to agree?"

"Agree with what?" Matthew was more perplexed than ever. "What else is there?"

"Well, I didn't get to finish," his teacher backs up. She turns to him and concludes, "But instead of helping just the other students, we need your help with one in particular."

Matthew bats his eyelashes, "Who?"

"Gilbert." The teachers cringe at the very mention of his name. "He's a living _nightmare!_"

"I don't see how _my_ presence will do any good, but, alright," Matthew comes to terms. "I'll give it a try."

The band of teachers beam with glee and shove him in the suspension room doorway, locking the door after him. He widens his eyes at the sight of Gilbert and him alone in an abandoned classroom. Green chalkboards patrol the walls, painted with inappropriate drawings more than likely illustrated by the Devil himself, sitting patiently with hands folded in an outdated and unfitting desk. The albino's feet are stretched out in front of himself to express the desk's tininess and he appeared a little too innocent with his fingers interlaced formally.

"'Sup, blondie," Gilbert greets jovially. Matthew unknowingly twiddles his fingers, his shoulders raised up to his earlobes. Gilbert bursts, "What brings you here?"

"I was just walking around," Matthew lied, thinking that Gilbert would get pissed if he found out it was the teachers who set this all up.

"Those teachers don't want to deal with my stupid ass. So they brought you to do their dirty work, those sons–a–bitches."

_Wow_. Matthew begins to wonder how much this guy really knows about this school, or how much dirt he has on other students. Or if he would be one of them by the end of this session. "Are you mad?"

"Of course not!" Gilbert throws his hand up in the air and walks towards a trembling Matthew, pulling him down to his height.

"Hey, you're actually really gigantic, Matthew," Gilbert looks impressed. "How tall are you, exactly?"

"F–five ten," Matthew answers, still caught by surprise. Everything with this boy seemed to be a surprise. "How tall are you?"

"_Pfft_, Five seven." The teen studies his facial features with a semi-stern expression, and asks, "And are you Canadian?"

"Yes, I am."

"Thought so. I'm Prussian," Gilbert puts Matthew in a playful chokehold, bringing his arm down to shove his thumb into his buff chest. "Don't get it confused with German. _Prussian_."

"But Prussia's been officially dissolved since 1947. I don't see how you were alive to be born in Prussia, and to be considered—"

"Listen here, pretty boy," Gilbert furrows his eyebrows as he tightens his grasp on poor Matthew's neck. "_Mein_ _Großvater_, Frederick II of Prussia, would be very disappointed with–"

"So, what you're telling me is that your _grandfather,_" Matt corrects the somewhat easy to decipher German, "was the ruler of Prussia in the _eighteenth_ century?"

He waves his hand nonchalantly, "Grandfather, _great_ grandfather. Somewhere along those lines."

"And just how old are you?" he jokes.

"Only twenty, Mr. Knowitall," Gilbert lets go of Matthew's neck. He plucks his blond brows and the delinquent rolls his eyes, "I failed my freshman, sophomore, and junior years, in case you were wondering."

"So, if you failed three grade levels, that'll mean—"

"So if I graduate this year, which I highly doubt, I'd be twenty one." Gilbert folds his arms and purses his lips. Matthew chuckles again, placing his hand over his mouth."Can't believe I'm wasting my time in here."

"What's so funny?" Gilbert snaps, eyebrows plucked.

"N–nothing. It's just," Matthew's chuckling turns to laughing, "you're doing it again."

"Doing what?" Gilbert queries with a little less attitude.

"That face you make that makes you look like Dean Winchester."

Gilbert cracks a smile at him and unfolds his arms. "Whatever. Still don't know what's got you so worked up about my face."

After a good laugh, Gilbert guides Matthew over back to his seat and pulls a desk out in front of his. Commanding Matthew to sit down, Gilbert pulls on his hands, making Matthew lean over close, uncomfortably.

"So here's your chance," Gilbert starts. "What are you like? I think I want to get to know you."

_What's this guy's problem?_ Matthew snatches his hands back and rests properly in the chair. "Okay, what do you want to know?"

"I don't know. Knowing those pains–in–the–asses watching us from the door window," Gilbert nods his head towards the door, "I just figured they would want us to do something like this."

Matthew suspires and continues, "Uh, I like Tumblr, Supernatural, and maple syrup. What do you like?"

"Okay," Gilbert ponders for a moment. "I guess I like getting in trouble, going to detention, and making people mad."

"No you don't," Matt contradicts.

Gilbert's eyebrows meet as he questions, "Huh?"

"I said," Matthew sits up properly, "no you don't."

"How would you know?" Gilbert raises a hand onto the table.

"That's just what you think other people think of you. I asked what _you_ like, and you're lying."

"So you're calling me a liar?" Gilbert raises his voice, eyebrows raised.

"Didn't I?"

Gilbert slams both hands on the desktop and bends down. "And where did the quiet little shy boy go?"

"He left," Matthew stands up, gaining dominance in height.

Gilbert reaches over the conjoined desks and pulls out Matthew's tie from his sweater, pulling him closer to emphasize power. "He was so nice and sweet, and wouldn't hurt a thing. Why did he leave? Have I done something _else_ wrong?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, I've always been this way," Matthew wrenches his head back and curls his fingers on the edge of the desk. He analyzes the red eyed bastard, and finds him to be completely out of dress code, so there isn't a way for him to match up the necktie battle.

"Well, I like this Matthew, and I know more people would, too. Why hasn't anyone ever recognized this you before?"

Matthew widens his eyes and his smirk droops into a frown. The red eyed teen across the desks smiles evilly, gripping Matthew's tie tighter. Matthew gapes his mouth open and squints his eyes. What is he going to say? Why is he acting like this? What's stopping him from kicking this guy's ass?

"Scared?" The "Prussian" asks. Matthew feels his eyes water for no apparent reason, and he yanks his tie back, running for the door. He jostles the locked door handle when the albino approaches him, hands in his pants pockets relaxedly, "Hey, dipshit. The door's locked—"

Matthew braces himself, heel against the lock, and rips the door handle right off the wood, in which he books it out into the abandoned hallway. Gilbert stares in awe at the gentle giant's aggression, and slowly walks to the door to inspect the knob. "_Mein gott…"_

* * *

"Matthew! _Please_ listen to reason!" his English teacher cries out in the empty hallway. Matthew stops in his tracks and wipes his puffy pre-tear jerked eyes with his sweater sleeve.

He turns around and contradicts, "I'm sorry, Miss. I don't think I can do it." He ponders upon a final statement, "He's too much for me."

The teacher cringes her preexisting wrinkled face and disagrees, "No! You're the only person whom I believe can get to him!"

"Out of all people, why me?"

"Because you're so kind and sweet," she blushes as she continues. "And you're much slower paced than Gilbert. I think that if he stays with you for a little longer, maybe some of that'll rub off on him."

Matthew's eyebrows raise in perplexity and the teacher respires, "Oh, come on! What do I have to do to make you to help one of your fellow students?"

"Uh, I said I wasn't sure if I feel—"

"But Matthew! We're all counting on you!" She grabs on Matthew's sleeve. "We've tried everything out there, and you're our last hope!"

"But—"

"_Please?"_

Matthew slumps his shoulders and sighs, "_Fine_, but I'm not very comfortable being alone with—"

"Great!" She guides Matthew back to the hall and finishes, "We're also gonna need you to spend time with him throughout the school days, as well."

"W–what! No, I'm sorry, but I can't—"

"But you're so good with him! I mean," She pulls out her cell phone and checks her messages. "The others said that he hasn't done or said anything since you left! And he hasn't pulled any kind of stunt, either!"

Matthew's indifferent expression shifts to one of concern. The two arrive back at the now broken door, and find Gilbert being guarded by the group of teachers.

"Okay, Gilbert's detention hour is up, so he can go home now." Said boy's face lights up and his posture straightens. The instructor continues, "But I'm ordering Matthew Williams and Gilbert Beilschmidt to 'hang out' during the school day."

Matthew and Gilbert's jaws drop to the floor as Matthew defends, "Now, wait a second, I never said—"

"No, Gilbert needs to learn to behave like the twenty year old he's going to be when he graduates." The teacher turns to face the boys who are side by side, now. "I think Matthew here will have a positive impact on your behavior, Gilbert. Let's just see how things go?"

The boys remain motionless and speechless. The teachers smile and sigh in relief, finally having found a temporary solution to Gilbert's rambunctious behavior.

"H–how long do we need to spend time together?" Matthew stutters, daring not to look towards Gilbert's direction.

"Hm, I'd say about a month or two," the woman suggests. "But if you guys hit it off, we won't stop you."

What could these two _possibly_ have in common? Matthew focuses his vision to Gilbert, who's almost as red faced as his eyes. He has a feeling this isn't going to go very well. How does he always get into this kind of situation?

* * *

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

_What the hell? Why do _I _need to do this? Out of all people, it had to be me. _Matthew treks through the daring hallways of his high school, letting his thoughts ricochet off of each other like a ping pong ball, bouncing from paddle to paddle.

He slowly picks up each foot, purposely letting them drag on the ground for a drawn-out-second time frame. He circled the one way hallway twice, dreading the moment he will actually have to go to homeroom, and be forced to deal with that loud mouthed smart ass.

Actually, he pauses, he doesn't have any room to talk. Although he's kind and patient, he _also_ has a pretty active smart mouth, and speaks in sarcastic tongues. He casually shakes his head, as if to clear his thoughts and worries by flooding them out of his ears like pool water behind a swimmer's eardrum, and enters the classroom. Matthew sits in front of Francis, beside Antonio and diagonal from _him_.

"Hey, _there's_ the man of the hour!" the voice Matthew apprehends. _That_ voice.

"H-Hi, Gilbert," he shyly greets, raising his shoulders and waving his fingers.

"I was just telling Francis and Antonio here about the deal the teachers set us up with. Isn't it a crock of _bullshit?_"

"I suppose it could be worse, am I right?" Gilbert and the other two stare blankly at him, as if he had insulted them in a gibberish foreign language. For Matthew, most likely Klingon. He breaks the silence, "Was it something I said?"

Francis raises his finger directively while Antonio opens his mouth to speak. "Uh, a little bit," Gilbert interrupts instead.

"What?" Matthew inquires nervously. "Did I offend you?"

Gilbert dramatically closes his eyes and raises a disapproving finger, "I'm kind of the biggest troublemaker in this school. No one like _you_ should have to deal with someone like _me_."

Matthew raises his palms onto the table, the only thing keeping his hands hooked to the sleek surface were his slightly sweaty fingertips. He turns his body slightly to Gilbert's direction and asserts, "Why do you keep saying that?"

Gilbert gives that same vacant expression as before, but regains his snarky attitude by laughing it off. "It was all funny joke, Matthew! No need to get your panties in a wad!"

Gilbert's entourage shakily chuckle as Matthew cocks his head to the side, sitting his bottom back into the seat. What was going on with them?

"Okay," Matthew agrees. "What guidelines do you think the teachers want us to follow, Gilbert?"

The foreigner rubs his chin exaggeratedly and pretends to be deep in thought. "Uh, I guess we have to walk to class together and sit by each other at lunch. But I got an idea!" he exclaims, pointer finger proudly in the air.

"What?" Matthew stretches his eyelids back to talk to the finger.

"If we hang out for a while, doing _everything_ together," Gilbert's eyes go big. "Maybe they will let us off the hook, no?"

"Uh, um," Matthew fumbles, being shaken up by the German's loudness. "I guess so."

"Good!" The bell rings an annoying rhythmic bong, consenting the morning announcements to follow. Afterwards, it's a few minutes of peace to talk with friends.

"And when I tried to flirt with Arthur, Alfred came and hit me on the back of my head!" Francis complains, feigning a hurt puppy expression. He rubs the spot of impact, "It _still_ hurts."

"That's what you get for trying to steal someone who's taken, _faggot_," Gilbert insults with a passion.

"Look, I didn't know she was your girlfriend at the time, if that's what you're referring to!" Francis cries. He displays his palms and defends, "Just let it go!"

"Ha! Me and Lovi love that song!" The empty minded Spaniard comments.

"No, _mon_ _ami_. _You_ like that song. You _make_ Lovino listen to it and you get smacked for it."

"W-Where's this conversation going?" Matthew always feels so confused around these three.

"This old pervert over here tried flirting with my girlfriend a while back." Gilbert grits his teeth and jerks his head towards the guilty party in question. "And you got me in _so_ much trouble."

"Who was it?" Matthew follows up, interrupting Francis' potential and seemingly useless explanation.

"You remember the bratty brunette from lunch yesterday?" Gilbert slumps his disposition, leaning wildly onto the table.

"Um, yeah?"

"Her name's Elizabeth Hedervary. Me and her have had this on and off again relationship for pretty much all of highschool."

Matthew gapes his mouth in comprehension and Gilbert continues, "Anyway, she kept breaking up with me because I'm too 'immature' and 'old'," Gilbert notions his fingers at the quotations.

Matt restlessly rubs his upper arms as a distraction from the otherwise awkward conversation. "Oh, I understand."

The bell rings again and everybody flies out only to linger around in the hallways. Gilbert walks alongside by Matthew, hands hidden away in his jacket openings and his head turned to disguise a scowl. Matthew takes notice in the older boy's body language and penetrates the silence.

"Why do you _do_ that?"

Gilbert whips his head around, the corners of his mouth stretched to his chin. "Why do you keep _asking_ that?"

"I'm curious." Matthew leans forward to try to maintain eye contact with the red eyed teenager, despite his unwilling participation. "So, why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"That."

"Look, you're making no sense." Gilbert suddenly stops in front of Matthew's first period classroom, hands out of his pockets and clenched by his sides. "Well, we're here."

Matthew blinks his eyes, shifting their position from Gilbert to the classroom door. He shakes his head nervously, frightened by the other boy's abrupt attitude change. "Uh, how did you know this is my first period class?"

"I see you walk in here every morning as I go to my suspension classes."

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, his lips barely parted and slightly gasping for air between them. Matthew's polished amethyst gems squint at Gilbert's rugged ruby stones, searching for clarity.

"Why are you doing that?" Matthew asks after a while of silence for what he felt like the millionth time that morning.

"Nevermind." Their gaze breaks. "Anyway, have fun in math. I know I will in detention." Gilbert waltzes back out into the crowd, wavering his hand dramatically to bid the other boy goodbye.

Matthew shyly waves back, conceding that the other would not receive the delivery, due to his presence has vanished as quickly as it appeared. The Canadian exhales in relief, entering the classroom to reluctantly begin the rest of his living hell.

"Hey, Matthew!" a female voice beckons from the opposite end of the classroom. Matthew smiles as he fetches his calculator from the compartment, and rushes to his seat.

"Hi, Irina," Matthew greets softly. The big breasted girl smiles, letting her choppy light blonde locks fall out from behind her headband and brush against her cheekbones. She beams and asks, "So, what did you think of last night's homework? It was so hard, I had to ask Ivan for help!"

She's _totally_ flirting with him. Matthew could practically see his face burn up with crimson as he lets the 'Ivan' part sink in, and responds, "Uh, I didn't get a chance to do it, actually."

Irina angles her head curiously, silently asking why. He pipes up, "I had to stay after school last night for something."

"Oh, was it a club activity or something?" She inquires, both students beginning to copy down the morning's warm up in their notebooks.

Matthew looks up from his paper and responds, "I guess you could call it that."

After a short pause to write a few problems down, she sneeringly interrogates, "Ooh, what does _that_ mean?"

"I've been selected to help out the teachers in dealing with the detention students," he begins clarifying. "They told me that I might have a positive impact on them because of my personality."

"That sounds fun," Irina breaks from her work as did Matthew. "What do you have to do?"

"Just hang out with them, babysit, I guess that sort of thing." Matthew flutters his eyelashes. "But the _real_ problem is the one particular student I have to work with."

"You only work with _one_ person?"

"Mostly, and it's the _worst_ of them all." He pauses to reflect on his harsh judgement, and reclaims, "Behaviorally, that is."

"Gilbert Beilschmidt," she comes outright with.

Matthew laughs lightheartedly, "Yeah, _that's_ the one."

Irina's face flushes and her eyes widen as Matthew makes an attempt on the morning work problems. "Oh! So he's _not_ your boyfriend?"

Matthew chokes over his own saliva at the mention of this, dropping his mechanical pencil onto his composition notebook. "W–what do you mean! Why would you think that!"

"I just saw him walk you to class today, and I thought that he was—"

"_Please_ don't finish that sentence," Matthew forbids, motioning his hands in denial. "I–I'd _never_ do something like that!"

"Aw, but I thought you two looked so _cute_ together," Irina complements.

"I–I don't swing that way, sorry," Matthew apologizes, lying through his perfect, white teeth.

"Really?" she questions, clearly still in denial. "Because I was pretty sure you had a thing for my brother for a while there."

If there's a darker hue of crimson out there, then Matthew is definitely wearing it. He shakes his perfect wavy cut and refuses, "No, no, I don't! I mean, I didn't!"

Irina wriggles her thin eyebrows and interrogates, "Are you sure about that? I mean, if you _do_ have a crush on Ivy, then it explains why you like Gil—"

"You're talking crazy!" he revokes with a rusty iron fist. "I'm not like that! Not like that at all!"

Irina distracts herself by completing her classwork, as well as commenting, "I'm just saying. If there's anyone here that'd be able to get to the school's biggest, most stubborn guy, I think it'd be you."

Matthew blushes, querying, "What do you mean by that?"

Irina chuckles, causing him to turn another shade of red on top of the preexisting crimson, and brushes it off, "Nothing!"

* * *

Out of all the times in his life he wanted to shoot himself in the head, now would be the most desperate occasion. Matthew's currently standing hand in hand with the German-Prussian hybrid in a circle consisting of the other detention students. His left hand, occupied in Gilbert's and his right being crushed by Carlos. The teacher, standing in the middle of the group, begins meditation.

"Okay, now that we've done our breathing exercises, let's start today's activity." Everyone snatches their limbs back and glare begrudgingly at each other. The teacher, a young redhead, most likely in her early twenties, continues, "Alright, everyone get with your partners."

Without a chance to even move, Matthew feels someone yank harshly on his right arm, pulling him down from his beanstalk state. He comes face to face with the Cuban who's undoubtedly _embedding_ his fingernails into his forearm. Matthew smiles warily as another force came into play, pulling his body to the left. Now it's _Gilbert_.

"You're not partnering up with that fucking Mexican, Matthew," the albino commands. Matthew only mildly grins again as Carlos speaks up.

"Hey, I'm not Mexican, fucktard. And he's _my_ partner."

He senses Gilbert's cheek brush against his sweater as he leans over to fights. "In your fucking dreams, asshole. He's _my_ partner."

Matthew closes his eyes and hopes for the best, deciding not to get in the middle of this. Well, _verbally_ the middle, since he's _technically_ in the middle if it. Then, a woman's voice comes through.

"That's enough, boys!" The two release him. Matthew rubs his right arm, since it had received the most hurt. "Who do _you_ want to work with, Matthew?"

"It, uh," he stutters, trying to disregard the daggers shooting at him from Gilbert's glare, "doesn't matter."

"Alright! Carlos, why don't you work with Li over there?"

Carlos smirks evilly and trots over to the other side of the room. Gilbert and Matthew sit down in desks pushed together by the teacher.

She stands in front of the class and announces, "Okay, so let's start today's activities!" She turns and grabs a plastic bag of index cards. "Before the game, I'm going to ask each of you a question: what do you get in trouble for at home, school, or even the law? Gilbert, can you answer?"

"Uh, drinking," he mutters. Carlos snickers at him and Gilbert jerks around and flips him off.

"Okay. Anything else?"

"Um, cursing, drinking, terrorizing neighbors, drinking, destroying private property, drinking—"

"Okay, Gil's turn is up! How about Mattie?"

Matthew ponders for a moment. He never gets into that much trouble. Well, except for a few things. "Uh, cursing, staying up past curfew, mouthing off—"

"Hey, I forgot that one!" Gilbert perks up. "I mouth off a _lot_ of people! My mom called me a smart ass just last night!"

"Okay, Gilbert," the ginger woman starts. "Now would be a good time to reflect. You just interrupted Matthew when your turn was clearly over. What do you say?"

Gilbert turns to Matthew and apologizes, "_Tut mir lied, Matthew."_

Staying silent, the teacher continues, "Good. Now, let's get this show in the road, shall we?"

* * *

"Okay, I'm giving each group an index card, which will change with each round." The teacher passes out cards to the pairs and the students read them.

"What the fuck are these?" Gilbert blurts.

"That's not the kind of language we use, Gil," she ignores.

"Sorry. What the _hell_ are these?"

"Good enough. They're scenario cards." She faces the class again, "I need to know where each of you are at with decision making skills. I want each group to read out their card when I ask and tell me what they'd do if they were in this situation. Gil and Mattie."

Gilbert snatchs the card from Matthew and puffs out his chest, "Billy's parents are away for the weekend. His friends found out and bought lots of alcohol to throw a party. Billy doesn't want to get in trouble, but can't tell his friends no. On the night of the party, more than a hundred people show up and Billy's parents call, telling him that they will be back by seven the next morning."

"Perfect! Now, what would you do, Matthew?"

"I'd, uh," Matthew stutters. "Tell everyone to go home?"

"Well, lemme tell you what _I'd_ do," Gilbert interrupts. He buffs his fingernails against his white dress shirt and clears his throat, "I'd chug as much beer as I could before I vomit, and party until the parents come back."

Gilbert beams proudly as the teacher shakes her head. "No, Gilbert. That's not the right answer. Christensen, what did your group come up with?"

* * *

"I'm only gonna drink this away, why do I need to sit here any longer?" Gilbert sighs.

Matthew attempts to encourage him, "That's not a good attitude to have. You should at least _try_ to participate."

"But this is so boring, and I want go home."

"And it's because of that very same reason as to why you're here in this detention–mediation–thingy."

"_What?"_

"Shh, you're too loud!" he brings a finger to his lips.

"I don't give a fuck. I just want to go home."

"Shh, seriously! I hear people coming—"

"_Found you!"_

Matthew nearly jumps out of his skin when Christensen unexpectedly pops out of nowhere underneath the desk, and screams like a banshee. Gilbert is frightened as well, it being evident as he continues to harass the prankster the entire walk back to the original classroom.

"For fucks' sake, the game's called 'Hide and Seek', not, 'Scare The Poor Players Shitless'."

"Ay, whatever, man!" Christensen relaxes his hands behind his head. "And you two couldn't have chose a worse place to hide. I mean, only kindergarteners during a fire drill hide under _desks!_"

"I don't want to hear any shit from the person who fucked up the last game," Gil reminds.

"Hey, if Lukas wanted to get it on right in the middle classroom, who was I to say no?"

Matthew whispered his input as he brushes his hair behind his ear, "He attempted to choke you with your own tie and it accidently slipped it off."

"_Ja_, you totally got the wrong idea," Gilbert adds.

Christensen snorts and disregards, "Yeah, whatever. That's just what Lukas wants you to think. He's _totally_ falling for me and he _knows_ it."

The three re-enter the detention room and meet their club once more. The teacher releases a huge breath and points the three to the cluster of desks, making known she wants them to sit down.

"Okay," she directs, "For our next activity, you're still going to be in partners."

A collected assembly of grunts and mumbles come from the class as Gilbert blabs, "When the hell are ve going home, already? Some people have nothing to do later, if it's of any concern to you, lady."

"And when will you learn to speak out in a group properly?" she asks sarcastically with a sweet smile on her face. Gilbert's mouth twitches as an expression of frustration rents on his face. The young lady disses, "Maybe that'll be our next activity, Gilbert."

"Pssh, whatever," he vents.

"Continuing on," she passes out a deck of cards to each pair of students. "We're going to play an icebreaker kind of game, in order to get to know each other a little better."

"With a deck of cards?" Li unexpectedly comments. "You have to be as dumb as shit to suggest such an idea."

"Oh, so we have _two_ motormouths in this group, do we?"

The class remains silent, excusing the random giggles and shards of breath snorted from laughter.

"With these cards, you're going to want to take out all of the number cards and then place the rest face down, as if you're going to play go fish."

Every pair does as instructed and the ginger continues. "Now, you'll each take turns picking up a card from the pile."

Gilbert nonchalantly draws a card and Matthew follows.

"So each card represents something. If you pulled a Jack, you tell your partner something about your family. If you have a Queen, you tell them something about your childhood. A King means your teen years, and an Ace is what you think you'll be like when you're an adult."

Matthew takes a short glimpse at his luck: Queen. Great. He shifts his focus back at the other boy in front of him.

"Do I go?" Gilbert asks.

"S–Sure." Like _hell_ Matthew was going to go first. He needs time to think of a good excuse before his turn comes.

The white haired boy flips his card around to reveal a Jack. "Okay, so I have two parents and a brother."

"Anything special about them?" the teacher interjects while doing a walkthrough to ensure progress.

"Ugh, my parents are both giant douchebags and my little brother's more mature than me."

"I'm keeping an eye on you, Mr. Beilschmidt," the woman stalks off.

When he makes sure she's out of hearing range, Gilbert wrenches his neck to get a glance at her, "_Ja_, I don't mind if you keep an eye on me, _sugar_."

Matthew smiles and breaks out in snickers. Gilbert raises an eyebrow and asks, "What's so funny?"

"That'll be a cold day in Hell before you have a chance with _her!_" Matthew laughs, barely covering his mouth with his palm.

"Oh, like you would know!" Gilbert jokes. "Now, what card did you get?"

Matthew glances back down at his card as if it changed when he last looked at it. "Queen."

"Alright, spill it. Childhood, right?"

"Yeah." Matthew's palms begin to sweat.

He lifts his brow, "Well?"

"I, uh," Matthew struggles to find the right words, darting his eyes across the room. "I don't remember most of my childhood, to be completely honest with you."

"What? How do you not remember your _childhood?_ You know, when all you did was play with toys and cry. It's pretty basic stuff."

"I know," Matt looks down at his feet, "I said I don't remember."

Gilbert angles his head in sudden interest. "Huh? Why?"

"I had an accident," Matt bites his lip as he begins the long story he trembles at the thought of telling.

"What kind of accident?" Gilbert's facial expression settles, making the other boy sweat in anticipation.

"I got hit by a car when I was a child," Matthew estimates.

Gilbert's mouth hits the desk top and he asks, "How the hell did _that_ happen?"

Matthew squints his eyes to recall, "I think I was riding a bike across the street and I guess I didn't see the car coming."

"You _guess?_"

"That's just what my parents and brother told me. I don't remember the accident at all."

"Really? Nothing at all?"

"No, but I know I had to get these afterwards, though." Matthew pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose."

"Is that why you couldn't see the car? You needed glasses?"

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that," Matthew's patronizes the boy. "Yeah, maybe."

"So you remember everything _after_ the accident?"

"For the most part, but I don't remember splitting my head open or the surgery, or anything in—"

Gilbert molds his mouth in a confused frown, "Huh?"

"I split my head open, and that's what caused my permanent amnesia," Matthew clarifies.

"_Amnesia!_ That's so fascinating! Where did you split your skull?" Gilbert's eyes grow a little too big in interest. "Let me see!"

"Uh," Matthew pats the back of his head to feel for the long forgotten scar. "I believe it's on the back of my head. And no, you cannot see it."

Gilbert pouts and sits back down and his arms by his side, representing an open gesture. "You really don't remember anything from your childhood, huh? Nothing familiar?"

"Not really. It took a couple of years to get used to my family again, and I lost all of my friends, since I couldn't remember who they were."

"So, what about the rest of your childhood? How much do you remember?"

Matthew blinks, smiling, and answers, "It was a living hell."

Gilbert makes an apathetic 'o' shape with his mouth and interrogates, "How was that like?"

"Doctor's appointments and home schooling, mostly."

"Alright," Gilbert compromises, sounding satisfied with the answers to his questions. He takes Matthew's card and places it in a separate pile with his own. After drawing a new one, he urges, "Pick another one."

Matthew slides a new card into his palm and observes his fortune. Ace.

"I'll go again. So, I got a King. That means teen years. right?"

"Yes."

"Boy, do I have a story for you," Gilbert clears his throat and inhales, rising his chest. "I mostly drink, but I also party and fuck."

Blondie screws his face in disgust, "Actually…?"

Gilbert lurches over the desk and puts a finger over Matthew's lips. "_Shit_, pretend I didn't say that! And _shh!_ You shouldn't repeat things like that!"

Matthew leans back as does Gilbert back into his chair, breathing a sigh of false relief. Matthew grins maniacally and pronounces, "_Fuck_."

Gilbert covers his ears and mumbles, "No, _no!_ I didn't hear it! You're too innocent!"

"My card's an Ace," Matthew disregards as he tilts his head to take a quick look at the card. "So that means the future."

"Okay," Gilbert sighs of relief. "We're back on track. Go on."

He predicts, "I hope in the future, I'm happily married and my career is going well."

Gilbert reclines the back of his seat to its two legs and queries, "Ooh, Who's the lucky lady? And your job?"

"I, uh," Matthew's daydreams of his and Irina's marriage ceremony come back to him and he cringes. "I don't have one."

"Career?"

A question Matthew can finally answer consoles his doubts. "Oh, I want to be a director someday."

Gilbert chuckles, "That sounds interesting. What's that?"

"You know," Matthew attempts to explain. "Writing screenplays and working in the film industry?" That dumbfounded look remains on the boy's face until he elaborates, "Making movies?"

Gilbert throws his head back and replies, "Oh, I get it. Directing what, specifically? Porn?"

Matthew's face grows red hot as he denies, "No! Never on my life!"

"Good, because it doesn't work," he sighs, crisscrossing his arms on the desk.

Matthew makes the connection and accuses, "You _what?_"

"Don't make sex tapes because they're not as fun as you think they are," Gil elaborates.

"I never said they were."

"And neither did I."

"This conversation's going nowhere."

"Pick a new card, then."

Matthew retrieves a brand new card harshly and furrows his eyebrows at his selection. A King.

"I got an Ace! _Verdammt!_" Gilbert inappropriately adds. He recollects himself, "Fine. Someday, I want to be a bartender because free beer."

"I have a King," Matthew makes known.

"Teen years!" The albino folds his hands and rests his chin in them, and purrs, "Go on."

Matthew smiles shyly and continues, "I go to a lot of doctor's appointments. And I like watching television shows, and going on Tumblr, as I've mentioned before."

"What are the doctor's appointments for?" Gilbert asks genuinely.

"My memory loss." Gilbert lifts an eyebrow and Matthew recognizes it's enough to know he needs to elaborate. "I have retrograde amnesia, so I don't remember anything before the accident. The doctors are trying to help me remember, but it's not working so far."

"Oh, I see." His red eyes study the purple ones in front of him. Gilbert's face stiffens up as he nears Matthew, invading the invisible boundary of personal space. "I know this is off topic, but what color are your eyes, exactly?"

"Um, blue. But I've had many people say they're purple." Matthew angles his head. "Why?"

"I was confused," he rests back into his chair. "They are really pretty, by the way."

Sweetie pie's cheeks go hot, "Er, thanks?"

"_Du sind willkommen,"_ he affirms with a faraway glance overcoming him.

"Gilbert, are you working with Matthew?" their teacher makes her rounds, and gives him the stink eye.

He nods and does as he's told, not like he'd have any problems with a teach this young, and resumes the conversation.

"So," it's Matthew's turn to stare playfully stalker, "what's going on with your eyes?"

"Can't you see?" he grins manically as he points proudly to his masterpieces for eyes. "Red for blood lust and loyalty," he attempts to sound high and mighty.

"Really?" The Canadian interlaces his fingers, and places his chin in them like a cradle.

Gilbert pouts, "What? Don't believe me?"

Matthew giggles, "It just doesn't seem natural. Your pupils aren't even black, they're all red."

"What are you saying? That I'm lying to make myself seem more awesome than I already am?" he plays along. The blond remains silent until the truth is revealed. "Okay, I actually have a slight case of oculocutaneous albinism, which is why my eyes are red and my hair is almost white."

Despite the elementary description, Matthew is still fascinated. "Wow, that's so cool! Can I look at them closer?"

Gilbert obliges and the other leans in closer only to find out that he was right. It almost looked like his eyes his eyes were bleeding, white and red being the only colors present in pigmentation.

"They're so interesting!"

"_Danke sehr."_

Matthew gives a little grin and gets back on topic, "I think we've pulled just about every card can. Or at least, let's just say so. I don't feel like playing anymore."

"Cool with me," Gilbert throws his card back on the table and leaning back in the chair as he did earlier, holding the back of his head in his outstretched arms. Matthew collects all of the cards, and shuffles them back into a neat little deck, as the two had received it. The white haired boy stirs up another conversation, "So, is there anything more I need to know about you?"

"Anything you can ask," Matthew keeps his eyes panned down at the deck, as he pretends to busy himself.

Gilbert sets his seat back on all four legs, and purses his lips in mild frustration. "_Ugh_, fine. You are very interesting and I want to know more about who you are. Any topics in particular?"

"I don't know," Matthew says, still not looking the other in the eye.

Gilbert looks daggers at the wheat blond from the corner of his eye. "Fine. Any hobbies?"

"Writing screenplays and…" Matthew pauses, his eyes scanning the room instead of at the receiver.

"_And…?"_

"There's nothing much else, really."

"Favorite food?" Gilbert queries assertively.

A stern aspect overcomes the shy boy's face. "Pancakes. Definitely."

Gilbert's mouth gawks wide open as it forms into a distorted smile, "Pancakes are awesome."

Matthew's face reflects Gilbert's, "_Really? _My brother makes fun of me for being Canadian because I like pancakes."

Gilbert calms his tone, "Oh, right! You're Canadian!"

Matthew complies, "According to my parents, I am."

"That's cool. But did you know I'm German?"

Matthew shakes his head warily and squints, "Yeah, I kinda figured that out for myself. And you told me yesterday you were Prussian."

"Well, we're pals now, aren't we?" The eldest of the pair dramatically fans out his fingers in front of his eyes to distinguish mysteriousness. "And I am kind of awesome. I only tell people who are also awesome, so unawesome people don't know."

"Woah, that's a mouthful." Matthew holds his stomach and complains, "Dammit, I'm hungry. What time is it, Gilbert?"

He pulls out his phone and glances at its screen, "Five 'o three."

"Can't we go home? Shit, and I already missed my ride. Alfred's football practice ended a little while ago."

"And he probably went somewhere else so he could play with his _boy_ _toy_."

Matthew chuckles, but it turns into full blown laughter at the thought of his brother and his boyfriend hooking up for what was probably the millionth time in their relationship. The other joined in and they caught the attention of their supervisor.

"I suppose I can let you guys go home now—" she barely has time to say before everyone splits for the doorway. Matthew was the last to leave, despite his towering height, he could've easily pushed past others. As he staggers his way out into the hallway, he widens his eyes in surprise to find Gilbert waiting for him.

"Did you say you needed a ride home?" Gilbert offers, swinging his keys on his index finger. Matthew nods and Gilbert jumps down the halls to the exit, the other boy silently following.

* * *

"So, where do you live, Birdie?" Gilbert questions.

"_Birdie?"_ Matthew tries to wrap his head around.

"Birdie. That's your new nickname."

"Can I ask why?"

He shrugs, "Because you remind me of a bird."

"Nevermind," he disregards. "I live only a few streets down from here."

The albino jerks the steering wheel, unintentionally jerking the teenagers' heads around. Gilbert rides another spin and the blond sweetheart clasps his hands on his head, pleading, "P-Please, drive safer, Gilbert!"

"What? I'm driving at a perfectly safe speed."

"I can't drive like this, please stop!"

"What's with you—" Gilbert stops mid sentence as he glances over at Matthew, who's nearly yanking the hair right out of his scalp. The German makes the realization from earlier that evening. "Oh, right."

One last stop at a cookie cutter wannabe home and Gilbert asks, "Is this it?"

Matthew removes his face from his knees and let a smile grow on his lips. "Y–Yeah. But I'm not sure if Al's home yet."

"Oh, from earlier!" Gilbert makes the generalization and chuckles an annoying laugh after. Matthew holds his knuckles, fanned, and conceals his mouth as he giggles at the sediment behind the double meaning statement.

Gilbert radiates a hearty laugh and accuses, "_Jeez_, your brother is such a playboy!"

"I _know!_" Matthew gasps between breaths. The taller fellow grabs his backpack and slings it over his shoulder as he exit the car gracefully. Gilbert decides to get out with him, except a little less orientated. The white haired boy trips over the running board of his vehicle, almost landing flat on his face if it weren't for his quick reflexes mixed with a good sense of upper body strength, Matthew, beginning to trail the pathway to his front door, moves with the turn of his shoulders to the other, lying on the sidewalk at this moment.

The violet eyed student cracks a crooked smile and snickers hysterically, "You dumbass!"

"Shh!" Gilbert bounces back and pushes his fingers so far into his ears. "If I didn't hear it, it didn't happen."

Matthew rolls his eyes and unlocks the front door and steps inside, placing his messenger bag back where he found it this morning and carelessly slides his shoes off. As he sways into the living room, he stretches his fingers out by his sides and calls for his brother.

"Hey, Alfred! Are you home?" Matt swiftly ascends the staircase, tracing his fingertips on the wooden railing, and heads for Al's room. Empty. "So he _is_ with Arthur."

Curly-Q stops off by his bedroom and picks up his laptop with the prospects of typing and loosening up to Blink-182 when he gets downstairs in the kitchen. He searches his window and pulls up one of his favorite songs, "What's My Age Again?", and cranks the volume a bit, debating on finding his headphones of which he left in the living room the other day. His lavender eyes remain locked on the screen as his right hand index finger scrolls the mouse pad for his writing documents startup.

His Dalek socks rub swiftly against the hardwood floor as his feet shift themselves into the kitchen for a snack. Head still tilted down, Matthew's left hand reaches for the cool stainless steel refrigerator handle, his right one balancing his computer in the middle of his palm like a professional acrobat on a daring tightrope.

Just as he retrieves an aluminum mixing bowl of cookie dough, he turns to the kitchen island and sets both the bowl and the laptop down. Baby face takes his eyes off of the computer screen and refocuses on the mixing bowl to start the task of baking. He smiles as he heads for the oven and fetches the baking pans.

"Uh, I'm still here," a German accent states outright. Matthew's eyes grow wide and he squeaks, dropping the pans he was holding for only a few seconds. He recoils his head into his neck, raising his hands and covering his eyes.

"How could you _not_ notice me? I've been sitting at this counter for like, the entire time," Gilbert explains.

Matthew relaxes a bit and respires. It's only Gilbert. "II– thought you went back to your car."

"Nah, I parked it and invited myself inside." He rests his brawny elbow on the countertop.

"Okay, let me ask a different question," Matthew sits at the opposite end of the counter. "Why are you still here?"

"Well," Gilbert rubs the back of his neck, as if all the answers to his problems would comes to him if he does so. "I got a text from my brother."

"And?"

"A bit of a backstory: I'm not allowed in the house by myself anymore and he's not going to be home for a little while." He clenches his fists, growling, "Out with that ditzy Italian, again, ignoring me."

"Oh, so we're in the same boat, huh?" Matthew clarifies.

"Yup!" Gilbert agrees. He wrenches his neck over to the setting behind the Canadian. "So, what were you doing before I interrupted?"

"I, uh," Matthew pauses to ponder the outcomes of his telling. "M–Making dinner."

"Cookies!" Gilbert's face glistens with excitement as he jumps to the scene Matthew left. "I'll help!"

Matt blinks his eyes for a moment out of shock. This guy is definitely strange. He gets up and decides to just go with him. At least he's not alone.

* * *

"Fuck, why can't I be French? This would be so much easier!" Gilbert's face flusters in frustration as Matthew smiles blankly at his stupidity.

"It's just icing, Gilbert. It's probably the easiest part."

"_Ja_, well," the fed up delinquent glares at his failure of a cookie. "How the hell do you even do this?"

"Francis taught me this last time he came over," Matt explains. Gilbert purses his lips and raises his eyebrows.

"Oh really?" he asks, distracted with his task.

"Yes," Matthew acknowledges. "And so did Antonio."

"What were the likes of those two over here for?"

"Teaching me how to make macaroons," Matthew raises his cookie up as defense. Gilbert huffs and goes back to frosting. He speaks in a low mumble, "You know, it's kinda unfair how the other two know you, but I—"

"Cool, mine are done!" Matthew exclaims, accidentally interrupting the other boy. He takes one for himself while Gilbert stuffs multiple in his face.

Matt giggles and recalls, "Oh shit! I forgot!"

Gilbert muffles, "Why do you keep cursing? It's breaking my heart!"

Matthew already made his way to the other end of the kitchen, reaching in the top little cabinet. He pulls out three Rx bottles and sets them all on the counter. Gilbert walks over and inspects a bottle as Matthew turns around with the last prescription.

"What are these?"

Matthew looks innocently over at the other and responds, "My medications."

"Well, I figured _that_ much out. What are they for?"

"Oh, that'll take a while to—"

Red eye grabs a bottle without permission and asks, "How about this one?"

"Oh, that's acetazolamide. It's for seizure prevention." Gil picks up another container. "That's clonazepam and it's for anxiety." A different bottle. "Dalteparin. Blood thinner." Last prescription. "Fluoxetine, depression."

"Okay," Gilbert finally speaks. "Why are you taking these?"

"Well," Matthew tries his best to remember. "When I split my skull, I needed to take blood thinners to prevent from having a stroke or a hemorrhage. Acetazolamide, to make sure I wouldn't have a seizure, which would've killed me for sure."

"Okay, what the others for?"

"A couple months after the accident, I developed a severe case of anxiety because I became scared of people. You know, since I didn't know who anyone was."

Gilbert blinks is response. "And the last one?"

"Fluoxetine." Matthew ponders to recall the reason. "A side effect of the anxiety and anxiety medication was depression. It became a big problem, so, they gave me that."

"Is there anymore shit you can _possibly_ take?" Gilbert's mouth gapes at a container in hand.

"Oh! Right!" Matthew goes back to the mud room and comes back with a strangely shaped white object. He digs in the medicine cabinet again and pulls out a package of inhaler replacements. He pops out the old bottle of medicine and replaces it with a new one.

"Good thing you said something," Matthew shows gratitude. "I've would've forgotten to refill this if it was up to my memory." He playfully raps his knuckles on his forehead.

"Now, what's _that?_" Gilbert face flusters again.

"An asthma inhaler," Matthew explains.

"When did you start taking _that?_"

"I think I've had asthma for a long time. Before the accident, I mean." He glances upon the inhaler. "At least, it _looks_ familiar."

"Oh, well," Gil regains his disposition. "Why the fuck do you need to take the other shit? It's not like you're going to get a seizure now, or anything."

"The doctors told me that I need to be on the medicine for about ten plus years after the accident and keep going to my therapist to reverse my amnesia."

"But it's been about ten years, hasn't it? How old were you, six?"

Matthew glances innocently over at the other and confusedly states, "Four years doesn't equal ten."

His red eyes grow smaller in his sockets as he realizes his mistake. "What?"

"I think I got hit by that car in the eighth grade. That's what my family told me."

"So, it was _recent?_" Gilbert shakily asks.

"That's what everyone says." Mattie begins opening his medicine and placing his pills in hand, and, swallowing it all at once with a glass of water.

Gilbert raises an eyebrow and asks, "Can I know more about it?"

Matthew turns pink and replies, "I, uh. I–If we have to spend time together for a month or so, I'm pretty sure you'll figure it out by then."

The German respires and goes back to where the two were standing before Matthew took his nightly medication. Blondie follows and takes another macaron, beginning to type on his laptop which had been forgotten about during the excitement.

The albino wrenches his neck over towards Matthew and queries, "What are you doing now?"

"I'm writing my screenplay," Matthew answers, eyes locked on his screen.

"Oh, you said something about that during detention!" Gilbert puts two and two together. "From the director's thingy, right?"

"Right."

"What is it about?"

"It's uh," Matthew fumbles, tilting the screen to obscure its identity to his approaching friend. "N-Nothing of interest to you."

"Come on, Birdie!" Gilbert urges, stretching his arms laterally to display openness. "We're buddies, no?"

"I thought that bird thing was a joke," Matthew raises his shoulders to his earlobes. "And the fact mattering to whether or not you're my friend has nothing to do with my willingness to show you these writings."

"Damn, big words confuse me," he mutters as he runs his fingers through his short translucent hair.

"They're not big words, Gilbert."

"Whatever," he lurches over to his laptop in attempt to get a peek of the Canadian's works. "Show me!" Matt pulls his computer into his chest and uses his head to guard it.

"No, it's private!" he laughs.

"Oh, really?" Gilbert questions playfully.

"Yes, now, go away!" Matthew wards.

The sound of a heavy door can be heard as a middled aged woman walks into the kitchen off from the front of the house. She stares at the random wrinkleless old man harassing her son in her kitchen. Gilbert backs off and Matthew's laughter fades as he sets his face back properly.

He glances up at this woman and she greets, "Hey, Mattie. Who's this?"

"This is Gilbert Beilschmidt from school," Matthew introduces, patting a hand on his German friend and smiling proudly

His mother lifts her eyebrows and commemorates, "Oh, I don't remember you saying anything about him before." She shifts into the kitchen and pulls out the materials to make tea.

"Well, technically, I started hanging out with him yesterday." Matthew maneuvers his hand from his friend's arm to around his neck. "But he's cool, so be nice to him, okay, ma?"

She huffs and smiles. "Okay, Mattie."

"C'mon, Gilbert," Matthew directs. "Let's go upstairs and I can show you my awesome Supernatural posters, yes?"

"Sure, why not," Gilbert agrees. Matt beams positively and grabs his forearm in guidance.

"Door open, Mattie, sweetheart," his mother commands as the pair reach the top of the stairs, foot in door.

"Okay, so here it is!" Matt stretches his arms out wide to present his decorated bedroom. He rushes over to his bed and plops down on it, picking up a plush plaything. "And I have three dolls of Sam , Dean, and the Angel of The Lord himself!" He buries his smile in Castiel's faux hair and red eye grins in satisfaction.

"Those are cute, I guess," Gilbert catches himself saying.

"I know! And over here," Fluffy haired leaps to the opposite side of the room and stands by a poster. "we have the SPN cast again on, like, every poster in here."

"How obsessed are you over these characters?" Gilbert chuckles.

"Only a little bit," Matthew rolls his eyes the other way. Gilbert walk over to the boy's laptop and lifts the lid, revealing a Supernatural background. Matt cringes his face and his cheeks fluster.

"That doesn't prove a damn thing," he denies, tightening his fists by his hips. He points his finger in discovery, "And you're one to talk, Mr. 'I have bird decorations all over my bookbag'."

"They're _chicks_, and what's so wrong about that?" albino defends. Mattie smiles and plops back over to his bed, grabbing a stuffed bear.

"Oh, and this is Kumajiki," the softie introduces. He pauses, an abandoned look written on his face. "Or, I think it is."

Gil smiles and takes a seat criss crossed on the floor bedside. "Well, he's cute either way."

"You really think so?" the Canadian buries his face in the animal's fur, obscuring everything but his lilac eyes, looking down at his friend.

"Sure, let's just say so."

He scrunches his cherry red nose, "Gilbert, you asshole."

* * *

Gilbert waves to Matthew in good riddance as he cracks open the driver's side car door. He climbs in a starts the ignition and roars into the street, smiling at the relaxed Canadian waiting on his front porch until he left for good. Gilbert drives out onto the highway, checking his cell phone at the red light.

_Where the hell are you, Gilbert? You should've come home at 4, 5 the latest. Muder and Vater have been waiting hours for you to get your ass home and because of you, I couldn't go anywhere with Feliciano._

The albino smiles and refocuses back out into the road, replaying the last few hours with Matthew out in his head. He smiles, muttering, "Okay, so what excuse should I use on Birdie next time?"


	3. Chapter 3

The blond cutie swings his feet from the long legged chair as he leans onto the counter to get a clearer view of his computer screen. He takes a pink macaroon he made with his German friend earlier that week and places it between his lips like a gangster with his cigar. Placing his fingers back on home row, he lets the words flow from his thoughts through his fingertips and onto the document. He respires happily, having a much needed surge of creativity, and begins to eat his pastry with the assistance of only his lips and his teeth. After, he rereads his work and revises as a part of his process.

Matthew's writing style ceases to differ. It starts with an idea, or something to go off of. Writing rough drafts or thumbnail scenarios usually follow. Then, it's the actual typing during the excitement of it all. Once he's rationalized himself, he reviews his works and edits and he pleases. The Canadian's eyes dart from his keyboard to the screen as he makes his side notations on his drafts, smiling at the outcome.

"Wow, this one's actually coming out halfway decent," Matthew whispers to himself and his screenplay. "Maybe I'll even show Gilbert, if he's still keen on reading these."

Matt slides off the uncomfortably tall chair and walks to the refrigerator for a drink. He rummages through the shelves filled with his brother's junk food and grabs one of the Capri-Suns from the back. Speaking of his brother, "I'd ask myself why Alfred isn't here, but keeping his other absences in mind. And, seeing how it's a Saturday, I'm just gonna disregard that."

Matthew staggers to the highest cabinet and reaches for his daily medication of which he hadn't taken yet today.

"Honestly, Al _knows_ I'm not supposed to by myself anymore," Matt mumbles, pills residing in his cupped palm.

After swallowing it all down with his artificially flavored lemonade, he goes back to his laptop, prepared to work. Only half a minute into typing, a deafening honk comes from outside. Concerned, Matthew strays from his work and peeks out the curtains unnoticingly, and discovers a familiar blue vehicle stopped out in front of his house.

Excited, the boy with the rebellious curl shifts to the front door and pries it open, running in his Fullmetal Alchemist socks to the porch railing. The cerulean car's driver side window rolls down, revealing the white haired 'Prussian' in black sunglasses.

"Get in loser, we're going shopping," Gilbert quotes. Matthew grins ecstatically and raises a finger at him, running back into the house for a moment.

He hurries back to his computer and shuts the lid, tucking it safely under his armpit and rushing up the stairs to his bedroom. Matt dumps it on his bed and searches for his shoes and wallet. Once found, he jogs back downstairs and retrieves a sticky note, penning:

_Out with a friend _–_Mattie_

With this, the violet eyed teen runs out the door and locks up the house. He paces his way around to the other side of Beilschmidt's car and hops in.

"Hey, Gil!" Matthew greets, hurrying with his seat belt. Gilbert begins driving and gives a toothy grin, the other continuing, "What're you doing here?"

"What?" Gil starts sarcastically. "A guy can't hang with his bro on a Saturday afternoon?"

"No, it's just," Matthew looks at his folded hands in his lap as red eye makes a turn from a stop light. "I was just thinking about how Alfred ditched me right before you showed up."

"Mmhm, where you and him supposed to do something today?"

"Maybe, I mean," he glances out of the window, "we sometimes do, but it's mostly the fact that he's not supposed to leave me by myself."

German boy steers the wheel slowly into a semi-vacant parking lot. He unhooks his seat belt and meets back up with the softie as they head for the mall entrance.

"What do you mean you're not allowed by yourself?" Gilbert wrenches his neck to get a better look at the other boy's reaction.

"Well," Matt starts, digging for examples. "I have to be monitored at all times. So, that means I'm safe in school. But Al's supposed to watch me over the weekend when mom and dad are at work, and he doesn't."

Gilbert runs his hands over a rack of children's clothing on display as they walk by and follows up, "What does he have to watch over you for? It's not like you're a little kid, am I right?"

"That's true, but I need to be supervised for medical reasons," blondie makes clear.

"Oh! Like if you passed out or something!" he connects the dots, using his hands in his explanation.

Mattie smiles, "Right, but I only do that in the bathroom."

He quirks a stern brow, "Huh?"

"If the shower water gets too hot, I black out, sometimes," Matthew nervously laughs, crinkling the corners of his beautiful violet eyes. "I pass out for any given reason, really." Gilbert lowers his lips in interest and purses them back up again, obviously catching the other teenager's attention.

He chuckles "Why do you even _do_ that?"

"That's boring," Gil huffs.

"What is?" Matthew questions.

"When you keep asking the same questions over snd over."

"What's so annoying aboot it?"

Gilbert nearly chokes over his own saliva, laughing. He hunches over as if someone punched him in the gut, as he asks, "A-_what?_"

Matthew realizes his fuck up and whips his head the opposite way, "N-Nothing!"

"Say it," Gil urges like the 'good' friend he is.

He pouts and folds his arms, "I refuse."

"Do it."

"C'mon, Gil."

"I know you know what I'm talking…"

Matthew's arms droop and he sighs, "A-Aboot."

The German roars at his crimson friend, slapping a hand on his back. "You're _totally_ Canadian!"

"Shut up, old hag," Matthew insults half meaningly, avoiding the piercing glares from passersby.

"What? So you think I'm old, yes?" he manages a smug expression.

"Yes. Yes I do."

Gil achieves a kicked puppy persona, That's hurtful, you know."

"That's what you get for failing so many grade levels."

"_Mein_ _Gott_, no _wonder_ Alfred didn't want to watch you! You're so mean!"

"No, Al wanted to go to the beach for the last time this season with Arthur." Matthew slides his vision over to the other. "And nobody's ever called me mean."

"Really? _Ever?_"

"No. People usually call me nice or patient."

"Well, hate to break it to you, but it's _long_ overdue," he turns his head the opposite way to muffle the last part of his sentence. Matthew looks daggers at Gilbert, but with no intentions of harming him. Just as the two strut down long line of store entrances, someone catches Matthew's eye.

"Hey, Gilbert," he rags on his friend's arm. Gilbert gives an interested 'hmm' and Mattie continues, "See the girl over there with the blue jeans and white t-shirt, her back facing us?"

Gilbert squints straight ahead and clarifies, "The one with the huge tits?"

"You don't have to put it like _that_," Matthew playfully hits the German's arm again, "but that's my friend Irina."

"Ooh, _girlfriend?_" Gil instigates.

Matt shifts from pasty pale to deep crimson. "Shut up, Gil."

"So, why did you point her out to me?"

Matt's demeanor changes completely as his brow lowers and the corners of his mouth ascend in an evil smirk. "Let's go fuck with her."

"Ay, _now_ you're talkin' Beilschmidt style!" White haired agrees, proceeding up to the girl with Matthew and his bad mojo trailing behind him.

Gilbert stretches his arms out forth and wraps them around the shorter girl's upper chest, trying not to cause a scene with a full blown 'copping a feel'. Irina jumps skyscrapers when she notices the unfamiliar set of burly arms coil supposedly lovingly around her. Gilbert rests his chin on her shoulder and whispers in her ear.

"Hey, sugartits, how's it hangin'?" Gil uses his 'charm' to fool with her. The big breasted girl whips around, only to find her Canadian friend standing nonchalantly behind the scene. Still, she bites her lip when she discovers red eye's hold remaining on her, his smirk close to her smooth and youthful face.

Matthew beams proudly at the encounter he had come up with and wards, "Alright, Gilbert. I think you've scared her plenty."

He stretches his neck back to Matt and recoils back to Irina, letting go and stashing his hands in his pockets to occupy himself.

"Mattie!" Irina gleams. "What're _you_ doing out and about?"

"Ask _débile_ over here," Matt nods his head to note Gilbert's presence. The German cocks his head, mouth gaped opened, as Irina giggles at the foreign word Matthew just spit out.

"Was that anything offensive you just called me?" Gilbert interrogates. Matthew chuckles as the girl excuses herself.

"Well, I've got to get going, I was supposed to meet my mom back in the car fifteen minutes ago, but you know me!"

"Distracted by every little thing," Matt shakes his head in fake disgust as the girl with blue eyes laughs it off. She waves goodbye and Mattie adds as she walks off, waving animatedly, "And tell your mom I said, _je vais te baiser, bébé!_"

She giggles again struts to the other end of mall, Matthew turning to a befuddled Gilbert.

"What the hell was that?" Gilbert stares daringly up at Matt.

Blondie smiles and continues walking, "Inside joke. Nothing you need to know."

"Oh, so you can call a man your friend, but he can't let you in on his inside jokes," Gilbert huffs, catching up to him.

Matt smiles, chuckling lightly and retaining normal attitude, "It was French, Gilbert."

"I know, I hear Francis spit that shit out all the time," Gil scowls. "Especially then he tries to hit on a girl or your brother's boyfriend."

Mattie sighs, "I know. Al bitches about it all the time."

"Oh? Is that why he's taking Eyebrows out on a lot of dates? So he doesn't stray from him?" he theorizes. Matthew flashes his eyes in understanding.

"Yeah, that would make a lot of sense, since he's overprotective like that."

Gilbert pumps a exclamatory fist and declares, "Of course I'm right! It's 'cause I'm awesome!"

Matthew pulls his head onto his shoulders like a turtle in its shell. He whispers in a hush tone, "Where are we even going?"

"I want to go to this store right over here. I have to pick up a few gifts for Luddy."

Matt relaxes from his curled disposition and asks, "Oh right. Ludwig's your brother, isn't he?"

"My younger brother, yes," Gilbert answers in a distracted tone.

"What do you need to get for him?"

Gil stops and stands majestically spreading his arms out in front of a huge Victoria's Secret boutique. Matthew twitches, balling his hands into two fragile, uncomfortable fists.

"Ha! Let's go inside!" the albino teenager runs into the store a tad too excitedly as Matthew reluctantly steps cautiously past the entryway sign. He meets with Gilbert who's looking through the items from the first rack in sight.

White haired spins around to present a pair of frilly nude undergarments to the other boy with a smile pinned to his face. "What do you think of these? Pretty tame, no?"

Matthew's face drains to a ghostly white, a blush not enough to express sweetie pie's true outlook. "I-I, uh, it's, um," he stutters wildly. "Is it for your brother's girlfriend?"

"No, he's dating the Feliciano kid," Gilbert looks indecisively at the article of clothing in question. "He's actually a super kind of sadist, if you catch my drift."

Gilbert grins like the maniac the flustered Matthew had already perceived him to be since they day they met and urges, "C'mon, Matthew! You're not so innocent yourself, now are you?"

Matt rushes up to Gilbert and clamps his hand over his mouth, "Shh! Not in public!"

"_Really?" _loud mouth mumbles through the other's palm.

Gilbert drops the lingerie onto the ground to have a grab at Matthew's wrist, only succeeding in pulling his hand a little further down his neck. Matt forces his other hand onto the boy's shoulder to get a better grip on him, ensuring that Gilbert won't blab anything untrue out for the whole world to hear as his opposite one clutches Gilbert's neck for control over his movements.

"Um, sirs?" a foreign female's voice gets their attention. The two boys pause their little wrestling match, Matthew's restraint on red eye's arms and cranking his neck around to look the lady in the eye.

"My boss asked me to escort you boys out," the employee says matter of factly. Matthew relinquishes Gilbert as whitey complains.

"Hey, why aren't us boys allowed in here?" Gilbert denounces. "Is it because of our testicals, and you women want our ballsacks away from your pretty little crotch cloths?" he motions his pointer finger to a display adjacent to him.

"No," the woman disagrees, "it's because you're causing a scene with your fighting. But consider yourselves already gone with that last accusation." She smiles as sickeningly sweet as Kool-aid and tilts her head, her hair swishing past her cheekbones and adding to her semi friendly position. Matthew apologizes with the color of a brick red crayon and pulls his perverted friend with him as they see themselves back out into the crowds of mall goers.

"_Tch_, she's such a bitch_._ Am I right, or am I right?" he asks rhetorically, spilling over the brim with pride.

Mattie can only put his head down as he whispers, "It isn't funny, Gil. We could've got kicked out the mall entirely."

"Ah, you don't know what's good for you!" Beilschmidt blows off. "What time is it, anyways?"

Cutie pie fishes for his cell phone out of his front pants pocket and activates the screen. "12:49."

"_Sohn von einem weibchen!"_ Gilbert sputters. "It's _mittagszeit_ and I'm getting hungry!"

"Now, it's weird for me to speak French, while you spit out half that sentence in some form of gibberish?"

"German." Gilbert flashes a nervous smile, "Yes?"

Matt raises his brow and tightens his shoulders, "_No?"_

"Is there anywhere you want to go eat?" he puffs his cheeks as his white flag.

Matthew's mouth gives an indigent smirk and he responds, "I don't know of anything in here. Anywhere _you_ want to go?"

"Um, okay," Gil's eyes scan the crowds as they steadily approach the food court. His face lights up like a an addict's bong when he makes up his mind, "Let's go there!"

German grabs Canadian's hoodie sleeve to make certain he wouldn't get lost in the uproarious crowds. They wriggle their way past stubborn shoppers and station themselves by an ice cream place. Matthew's face lights up when he catches sight of the sign and cringes from overjoy.

"I love ice cream!" he proclaims calmly with a smile sketched on his face as his lovely black lashes meet.

"I knew you would," Gilbert claims.

He bats his eyes back open,"How?"

"You like pancakes and baking, right?"

"Yes?"

Gilbert sighs, a smile on his face, "I just had a feeling."

"Um, okay?"

Gilbert steps ahead in placement of the waiting line and presses his face against the showcase of ice cream flavors. "Wow! Pick one out, Birdie!"

"I, um. Vanilla?"

"Okay, then I want a vanilla, too. But make sure it has all the toppings because an awesome person can have only the awesomest ice cream!"

The waitress grits her teeth at the assertive teen and begins making Gilbert's overly excessive order. She shoves it at him and hand Matthew his cup and gives the overall price.

Matthew goes for his back pocket but Gil stops him. "I dragged you here, I can pay for it."

Gilbert hands the young lady the amount due and smirks, "Here, hot stuff."

She gapes her mouth slightly as her eyebrows raise in disbelief, "Excuse me?"

"Damn, with a body like that, you're excused," he "flirts", giraffing his neck over the counter to get a better look at her.

"_Jeez_, how come you didn't think of that earlier, Gil?" Matt asks, chewing his food for a second. "You could've had the opportunity for her to spit in your food."

The girl giggles humorously at Matthew while the two boys stare blankly at her.

"But, of course," Gilbert throws to attention back on himself. "If you were to choose between the two of us, it would undoubtedly be me, am I right?"

"Actually," she points her finger at Matthew. "I'd rather have _him_."

Matt nearly chokes on his food while Gilbert swears on his life that she stabbed him in the back. "What the hell do you mean you'd rather have him? Aren't I better?"

She raises her eyebrows and defends, "Well, he seems nicer."

"Nice my _ass!_ C'mon, Mattie, let's go," red eye huffs as he grabs onto the boy's available sleeve.

Matthew laughs rudely at him, "That was the funniest thing I've seen in a long time!"

"I still don't see how it was funny," Gilbert complains, letting go and leaving Matthew to walk behind him.

He catches up, "Because! You're a loser!"

"Shut up, asshat face!"

"Not _my_ fault I'm so good looking," Mattie feigns an unknown playboy atmosphere.

"I blame your mother," Gilbert accuses with a stern expression. "There's no way you're that cute all on your own."

"Not my fault girls are just naturally attracted to me."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm just saying that you're not the smooth talking ladies man you've made yourself up to be. Whereas it just runs in my blood."

"Really?" he shines his pearly whites, and wrinkles the side of his face in amusement, "What kind of blood runs through an awkward teenage boy like you? _Canadian?_"

"Don't forget French," Matthew adds.

Gilbert stares diligently and asks further, "What does that mean?"

"You see," he takes a spoonful of ice cream. "Alfred's not really my 'twin', shall we say."

Gilbert widens his eyes in response to this new information. "But you two look so much alike."

"He's the same age as me, sure. But my Canadian mother was with a Frenchman before she met my American father, who had full custody of his American baby."

His gapes his mouth and confirms, "Oh, I get it now. But I still don't see how you two manage to look alike."

He shrugs, "Shit happens."

"Well, that sounds cool." Gil tightens his fists. "Cooler than my family."

"Oh?" Matthew acknowledges. "I'd like to hear more."

He shuffled his feet to procrastinate. "Even though I'm the older brother, Ludwig always gets special treatment."

"How so?"

"He gets more respect than I do, everybody just bows down to him. He always gets the pretty girl or boy and all anyone does to me is avoid me."

"Well, what's the bigger issue to you?"

"Probably respect. I think that because he has more honor, that's why everyone likes him."

"Well, _there's_ your problem."

He raises his eyebrows, "What is?"

"Give people something to respect and they'll give it right back to you," Matthew mutters past the spoon of ice cream in his mouth.

"You sound like the teachers who yell at me after I do something wrong," Gilbert related. Matthew payed no attention to him and ventured his lunch instead.

All of a sudden, the blond gasps and points to a shop and exclaims, yanking on the other boy's sleeve, "_Oh my God!_ Look there, Gilbert!"

"What is that?" Gilbert squints.

Before he can figure out what it is for himself, the Canadian responds, "It's a Build-A-Bear Workshop! Can we go in there? _Pretty_ please!"

"_Mein Gott,_ you're just like a child," Gil huffs. Matt's face illuminates as he takes off for the store, leaving his Prussian friend in the dust.

Gilbert smiles and shakes his head as he scuffs his feet upon entering. It doesn't take long for him to single his buddy from the crowd of kindergarteners, as he spies Matthew by the the bears.

"Wow! Look, Gil!" he beckons. Red eye wanders over to the spectacled child and observes whatever it is in his hands.

"What is it?" he asks curiously.

Matthew holds it up, "It's a bear! Pick out a name, I'm gonna go over to the stuffing station!"

"Hold up, why am _I_ naming it?"

"Because I'm buying it for you, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"Oh, yeah?" Gil's eyes scan the stuffed animals until he picks up a yellow chick, "Name this one, because you're getting it whether you like it or not!"

Matthew laughs as he stands in line in the stuffing station. After their turn of kissing hearts and Gilbert making a complete fool of himself, the two head for the accessory section.

"Okay, so here's your bear," Matthew hands off. Gilbert shoves the bird onto him and begins searching through the clothes.

"Okay, so I'm going to dress him up in winter shit, since he's going to be a canuck like you," Gilbert half insults. Matthew's nose goes red as he cringes his face in embarrassment.

"Fine, then the bird's gonna look like a smart ass, loud mouth German," he competes.

"Fine."

"_Fine_."

The two scour the store in search of outfits to embarrass the other's ethnicity and they meet back up at the adaption station.

"Mine's wearing a bar maiden's dress, since that's what you _Germans_ are into," Matt shames.

Gilbert holds up his bundled up bear and claims, "Well, mine's ready for summer in _Canada_."

"Mine's name is Gilbird, you know, having _nothing_ to do with _you_."

"His name is Canuck, since he's _totally_ not _Canadian_ like yourself."

The two travel for the checkout counter and pay for their playthings and continue their racist battle out the shop.

"Well, I hope you and, whatever that thing's name is, are happy like Gilbird and I," Matthew teases.

"His _name_ is Canuck, _canuck_," Gilbert mocks.

The two stare at each other in disgust until Gilbert cracks into laughter, influencing the other to, as well.

"Where else do you want to go?" Matthew manages through his giggling.

"I don't know," Gilbert turns his neck around like an owl to get a view of the selection of shops. His ruby eyes fall upon an escalator and his lips curve into a devilish smile.

He grabs his friend's sleeve, pointing upwards, "Let's go up on the second level!"

Matthew gulped, but, not wanting to look like a chicken, agreed. Gil drags his Canadian buddy and hops onto the moving staircase, Matthew standing hesitantly at the bottom.

"Com on, scaredy cat!" Gil urges. "You're going to get lost!"

Matthew closes his eyes and steps onto a stair, wobbling back and forth. Gilbert takes notice and descends a few stair steps to be aside Matt. Violet eyes shine as Mattie opens his eyelids and clings to his German friend.

"Chicken!" whitey provokes. "It's just an escalator. You're not scared, are you!"

Matthew releases a short lived whimper and Gilbert gets the idea. He puts his arm around the other in comfort and releases him when they reach the top.

The Prussian takes off, "Let's go, Mattie! I think there's a place over here you'll like!"

Matt staggers behind and comes face to face with fandom merchandise littering the place. His amethyst eyes land upon Gilbert who, smiling like a goon, is standing by the Supernatural merchandise. Matt's face grows to a smile as he darts over to meet his friend.

"Holy shit, it's Supernatural!" he exhorts.

"Wow, no way, captain obvious," Gilbert mutters jokingly through the teeth in his smile.

Matthew, too distracted by the posters, picks up one that looks foreign to him and examines it.

"Oh my gosh!. This one has Castiel in angel form. Isn't this so cool, Gil?"

He squints, "I thought you had a poster like this one."

"No!" Matthew defends. "The one you're talking about has Dean and Sam with Castiel in the _background_. _This_ poster has just him."

He shakes his head and huffs, "Pssh, _nerd_."

Matt swings the poster sharply at him and props it underneath his chin threateningly. "What was that?"

"Nothing! Nerds rule!" Gilbert retracts his previous statement with his hands raised, pleading innocence.

Matt takes the poster back and snorts in laughter. The two trek through the store, Matthew having to explain every detail of why he reacted in such an excited way to each item and why a Doctor Who wall clock with all twelve doctors replacing the hours was the most amazing and practical thing in the whole world.

"So, do you like the poster you almost damn near killed me with?" German boy points back over to the Supernatural display.

"Yes, so much! But I'm not allowed to have anymore posters in my room," Matthew warily chuckles, closing his eyes. "My mom says that I already look like an offender."

"Nonsense," Gilbert takes the short trip over the poster and holds it a Star Wars light saber fight pose. "You can just say that I didn't know that and got it for you anyway!"

"You don't have to—"

Gilbert already ran to the check out and slammed the poster up on the counter. Matthew respires and shyly follows his friend. When they leave the store, Gilbert hands him the poster and Matthew smiles, obsessively stroking it.

"Thanks so much, Gil," Mattie thanks. "I'll pray to this every morning."

"Fanboys," he sighs. "I'll never understand them."

"Hey, what time is it? I think I'm supposed to be home by a certain time today."

"It's, uh," the albino checks his cell phone. "3:58."

Pulling out his own cell, Matthew verifies, "I have to be in the house by five. So, is there anywhere else?"

"I don't know, but I want coffee," Gilbert complains. "How about you?"

"Sure."

The two venture through the crowded shopping center and turn off at a coffee shop, Gilbert asking, "What do you want?"

"Um, iced coffee, please."

"How can I help you boys?" the African American woman, most likely in her mid twenties, asks.

"_Ja_, can I get a large iced coffee and a hot one?"

"What size is the hot one?" she asks.

Gilbert winks, "Whatever size _you_ are, baby."

Matthew's face grows red as he tries to contain his laughter between his feminine hands, excusing a few sputters of giggles.

"Excuse me?" she recollects.

Gilbert's garnet eyes scanned the poor employee and he estimates, "Tall, dark and sweet."

Mattie loses it and the corners of his mouth reach to his cheekbones as he suffers from his uncontrollable giggling.

"You'll take a large and leave with your little friend," she insults, writing up the order.

Gilbert turns to Matthew with a playboy smile on his face as he proclaims, "She totally wants me."

"I don't think so, Gil," Matthew gives his honest opinion, a grin remaining on his face.

"Just you see," white haired affirms. "She's gonna write her digits on my coffee cup and we'll see who's wrong then."

"Alright," Matt brushes off.

Their order's called out just as soon as they bet and Gilbert runs up the counter to examine his cup. Handing the Canadian's his, his burgundy eyes lock on the coffee cup as Matthew chuckles, "Was I right, or was I right?"

He sighs heavily, "You were right."

Matthew pokes fun at the German as they depart the kiosk and venture forth the rest of the shopping center.

"One last place?" Matt asks nonchalantly.

"Uh," Gilbert glances at his watch and squints. "It's already four, might as well take you home."

Gil leads doe eyed out of the crowded shopping malls and back to the navy blue vehicle almost like that of Regina George's car in the film, "Mean Girls". Matthew figured that the car suited him well, then.

* * *

"Matthew! Where were you?" his mother screams at the very top of his lungs.

"I-I wrote that note for you," Matthew stutters, still in shock from his brother's loud tone. "Did you find it?"

"Just saying you're out with a friend isn't enough to calm my nerves! You had me worried sick something _terrible_ happened!"

"Mom, I don't think taking my medication only one hour late is gonna change my life. Chillax, alright?"

"Just take your pills, before you _do_ give me a heart attack."

Matthew huffs childishly and swallows his medicine, blindly pulling his cell phone out his his red maple hoodie pocket.

_Hey Birdie, hope you didn't get in too much trouble! But I say we should do that again, you're so awesome to hang out with!_

Matt smiles at his screen and takes a seat at his kitchen counter to reply.

_That sounds like fun, I can't wait until then._


	4. Chapter 4

The ocean eyed teenager shoots his eyes up to the slightly taller boy and inquires, "So, you say you two hung out all weekend?"

"Yeah! Honestly, it was the most fun I've had in a long time!" the other's violet irises disappear behind his eyelids and his lips curve into a content smile.

He triggers his azure jewels back down at his shuffling feet. "What did you do?"

"Wow, where do I begin!" he stretches his fingers out to display his actions and widens his eyes like a child in awe at a candy shop. "On Saturday, he took me to the mall and we got ice cream and Supernatural merchandise. Sunday, he picked up Francis, Antonio, and I and we all went to Baker Beach and walked around barefoot on the sand. It was really fun!"

The boy with the cowlick raises his shoulders to his earlobes and whispers, "Can I tell ya somethin'? About _him?_"

The taller one shifts his head downward slightly and bats his eyelashes. "What aboot him?"

"I think you should back off before it's too late."

"Huh?"

"Well," he rubs the back of his neck. "Gilbert isn't the most innocent of all people."

"Psh, yeah, he's told me," curly-q scoffs.

Blue eyes raises his palms in innocence, "No, not like that, particularly. He's, just—"

"Just what?" the lighter blond interrupts.

"He's got a lot of dirt on him, ya know?" he wrinkles an eye.

"_Like?"_

"Like, he's been to correctional facilities, did time in juvy. I think that's too much for someone like you."

"What're you talking aboot? It doesn't matter what happened to him in the past. As long as he's being a good friend now, I don't care what he did."

"That's what I'm worried about. That you'll fall for him and you'll get hurt. I don't want that for you."

"Look," the tallest halts and poses his arms, "I'm his _friend!_ Nothing's going to happen between us! And what could he possibly do to hurt me?"

"Didn't you notice? Anything odd strike you about him?" baby blue argues.

Light purple eyes roll, "No, and I don't think there's anything wrong with him."

"Well, I guess you'll find out either now or later. I gotta get to class. See ya later, Mattie," the ethereal teen bids good riddance.

He enters the classroom, huffing, "Whatever, Al."

* * *

Matthew had replayed this conversation in his head for the past class period. Why would his own _brother_ come and tell him something like that? Is there something he doesn't know or can't see? How serious is this situation?

"What're you doing, Matthew?" a British accent rolls. "You're spacing out."

"Uh, it's nothing, Arthur," Matthew addresses. His face lights up a split second afterwards and turns to his chemistry partner, "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Arthur agreed, elbow resting on the table and cradling the side of his face.

"What's up with Alfred? He's been acting really weird and asking me strange things."

"Maybe he's finally hitting puberty," the blond jokes. Matthew smiles, but continues, nevertheless.

"Yes, but, do you think he seems a little fidgety lately?"

"Now that you mention it, yeah. He kinda _has_ been," Arthur condoles, sitting up straight. He crosses his arms and focuses his sight at the ceiling instead of the Canadian in front of him. "He's been really touchy."

"I think so too," Matthew agrees. "Just earlier, he was talking to me aboot something and he seemed like he couldn't quite spit it out."

"No, like, he's been _actually_ touching me," Arthur looks back at the other boy, whose head is resting shamefully on the corner of the lab table.

"But that's just _my_ problem!" the British boy corrects, shaking his hands in denial. Mattie sits up again, red and flushed, and Arthur asks, "What was he talking to you about? Because you and I both know how he can beat around the bush in certain conversations."

"It was about Gilbert." Arthur cringes his nose and squints his eyes as Matt asks, "What is it?"

"Maybe Alfred wasn't the _best_ person to tell you, but _somebody_ had to do it," he exhales.

"That's what Al must've been getting at," Matthew relates. "What is it?"

"He didn't tell you?" Arthur acts genuinely surprised.

"He just told me to back off. Is there something I don't know?"

Kirkland regains his disposal and clears his throat, "Well, didn't you transfer here during your junior year? About over two years after the accident?"

"Yeah, that's right," Matt affirms, nodding his head along.

"Well, a lot has happened here before you came along."

"Like what?"

The other paused a moment before inquiring, "How much has Alfred told you?"

"Something about jail time. Can you tell me what that's all aboot?"

"Alright, I think I'm allowed to tell you that much." Blondie readjusted his seat to get a better earful of the other boy's side of the story. "I'll just tell you upfront: Gilbert isn't a very good person."

"_I_ think he is," Matthew mutters under his breath, nose cringed in frustration. "He's a great friend."

"There's a big difference between good and great, Matthew. Gilbert's crossed that line a long time ago, and I don't think he's going to change any time soon."

"Did he actually go to jail?" Matthew renders the subject. "He mentioned it, but didn't say why, exactly."

"Juvy, since he was only sixteen at the time. But it was mostly for immature behavior," Arthur explains. He wrinkles his face as he adds, "But he's definitely been in holding before, since your brother's dragged me to the prison to bail him out."

"When was that?" Matthew questions, head tilted.

"It happened last year," Arthur assumes. "You may not remember."

Matt blinks for a moment but draws a blank. Arthur gathers his school things as does blondie and continues, "I think Alfred's just concerned about you. He's probably worried that something might happen to you."

"Like what?"

"You know how overprotective he is!" Arthur swats the air. "You're so nice and patient and Gilbert's an aggressive trouble maker! Think about it!"

"That he's gonna _use_ me in some way?" Matthew connects.

"Yeah, word for word from what he told me, actually."

Matthew's eyebrows lift, "Wait, so he talks to you about these things before he tells me?"

Arthur laughs, "I'm pretty sure you know what's _really_ been happening when Alfred takes me on one of his little 'dates', don't you?"

"Yeah," Mattie sighs, squinting his eyes. "I have a pretty good idea."

"Well, he'll talk about things that are on his mind, afterwards," Arthur reveals.

"Is he really _that_ worried about me?" Matthew cocks his head at him.

"Well, he's your brother. And it seems like that's all he talks about these days."

"But why hasn't he told me until today?"

The other blond shrugs his shoulders and continues, "I don't know, but he's taking me out on another 'date' after school. So I guess can try to ask him what's up."

The bell bongs, signalling student departure. As everyone piles out of the classroom, Matthew getting pushed to the back, and is the last to leave. Despite his elevating stance, Matt thought he was always pretty petite and weak, in frame and stature, that is. As he shuffles his way out the doorway, he overhears the familiar and once calming voice shouting, as usual. He catches a blur of black and focuses his sight to see the Prussian shaking his sleeved arm, with a threatening fist at the end.

"Get your Mexican ass out of here! And I don't want to see your shit face unless I absolutely have to, Carlos!" Gilbert interrupts his own tongue lashing to greet the Canadian. "Oh, hey, Matthew." Feeling a sudden rush of shyness penetrate his seal of social conduct, Matthew only waves.

"Hey, bring your wavy blond head down here!" Gil demands, motioning his hands towards himself. Matthew lowers his head as he's told to and the German aggressively ruffles his hair, straining Matt's neck even lower down.

"W-What's that for?" Matthew calmly asserts as the German proceeds with his ritualistic doings.

Gilbert release and explains, "I've never done that before, and it's sort of like an initiation for all my close friends." He begins walking and the softer boy follows frantically. "And I like how your hair feels."

"Why?" Matthew tilts his head and squints his eyes.

Gil jolts his shoulders, pulling that same lip pout as always. Matt smiles, closing his eyes for a split second. Well, a split second's all that's needed for disaster, right? Matthew feels the left side of his body jerk back as he topples over on the hallway floor. He recoils and looks back up to see who in the hell could be big enough to knock him over. Glowering above him stands the school's biggest upperclassman.

"I-I'm sorry, Ivan," Matthew jumpily apologizes.

Ivan continues to stand menacingly as he does not say anything. If he were, his glare might suggest, "you'd better be". But Ivan would never do that.

The wavy haired blond felt his heart beat its way up through his throat and out his mouth when the Russian student muttered his name in such an belligerent way. His thoughts are cut short as he senses another shadow gloom over him. The ivory pigmented sweetheart snaps his neck back to be presented with a ballistic German.

"Who the hell are you to do something like that!" Gilbert yells at the Russian who would clearly kick his ass in a fight. "You keep your commie ass out of my sight!"

Matthew desperately pulled on the loose ends of the albino's jeans and cranked his head back, "Gilbert, _please_ don't."

Ivan rolls his eyes and slowly stalks off, Gilbert gritting his teeth at his direction and yelling, "That's right! You'd _better_ run!"

Matthew buries his eyes in his palms and exhales dramatically until he feels a hand brush his shoulder. He looks back up and discovers the red eyed boy's' hand provided in assistance.

"Come here, Birdie," Gilbert offers. "Let's get to class."

Mattie smiles and bounces back up with the help of the German's strong grip and they continue to pointlessly putter the hallways.

_I don't even remember the last time someone's stuck up for me like he did,_ Matthew has a thought to himself as he walks alongside Gilbert, grinning at the other boy's presence. _I'm really lucky to have a friend like him._

"Hurry up, Birdie! That insanely hot teacher from last time is here again!" Gilbert rags on blondie's arm and rushes him into the classroom. They seat themselves just as soon as the late bell rings. The professor struts into the classroom and drops her binded papers onto the desk.

"Alright," she begins, her ginger hair flowing behind her. "Today, I have something special planned for you guys."

"What is it? Are you going to pull a stripper pole out your _ass_ and do a little dance for us?" none other than Gilbert recommends.

Matthew swings his hand as far back as he can and strikes him in the arm, cursing, "Shut your damn mouth, Beilschmidt."

"_Jesus_ fucking _Christ_, Matthew," he recoils, rubbing his upper arm furiously.

The teacher scoffs and continues with her lesson plan, "Well, I brought along some stuff for you to play with to go along with our lesson."

Everybody remains silent as the redhead continues, "Well, I constantly hear in the hallways people calling each other the 'f' word, and in a not so nice way."

"Which 'f' word, specifically?" Li raises his hand and blurts.

"Um, well," she fumbles. "I can't really say."

"Faggot!" Gilbert screams for his suggestion to be heard. Not that he needed it.

"Not so loud, but yes."

"So what are you going to do about it? Kids are going to be kids."

The teacher turns back to the desk and rummages through her things resting on the floor. She retrieves a duffle bag and presents it to the class.

"I'm going to hand you one of each and a few of its 'accessories.'" She plops the bag down on Gilbert's desk and unzips it, pulling out a few of the obscured items.

Gilbert's jaw drops as he discovers the teacher's lesson plan, "_D-Dolls?"_

Matthew's face lights up and grows a smile as he basks in his friend's reaction to such a little deal.

"Yes! Now, I'm gonna hand each person a doll and you're gonna play with them as our warm up for the lesson."

The redheaded goddess hands Matthew and Gilbert a pair of blonde playthings and passes them off for the other groups. The German's red eyes nearly bulge out of his skull as he picks it up.

"What are these? And what are we supposed to do with them?" Gil asks.

Matthew get his toy to demonstrate, "They are Barbies! And you play with them!"

"I know, but," Gil holds the doll in his fingers and scowls like the teacher just handed him a actual piece of shit. "What are their names? What do we play?"

"Well," Matt adjusts the doll's jacket mid sentence. "You have to come up with that on your own!"

"Okay, so her name is," he pauses to ponder, glancing at his rough appearing doll outfitted in knee high heeled boots and a short dress. "Bitch Titties McPimp-ass the Third."

"Classy name, Gil." The Canadian flutters his eyes at his Barbie and responds, "I'll name mine Madeline."

"Why?"

"Well," he twists her long wheat pigtails and explains, "I think she looks like a Madeline. It's a pretty name, I'd name my daughter that."

"Oh, you want kids?" Gilbert asks, brushing his fingers through his doll's long, dusty blonde locks.

"Yeah, I'd really like to someday," Mattie smiles slightly and lowers his eyelids at his toy.

The hard edged Prussian glances over at Matt and inquires, "How about Madeline Jane?"

Mattie drops his hands and cocks his head to the other, "Huh?"

Gil keeps his head angled at the doll, but shifts his eyes at Matthew. "You can name her Madeline and I'll just add Jane as her middle name, or something."

The boy with the curly hair felt his face flush multiple shades ranging from snow white to blood red as he asks, "What're you talking aboot?"

"I got it!" Gilbert swings his upper body to face the student. "I can have your babies and you can finally have the daughter you've always you wanted!"

Matthew lowers his head in embarrassment, "Um, I—"

Gil relaxes his spine back onto the back of the chair and fans his fingers to prove his case, "I know, I'm a genius and an awesome friend."

"But you must think I'm good looking enough for you to willingly bear my children, right?" Matthew sputters.

"I've got a fondness for cute things," he shifts his crimson irises at the blushing Canadian and winks.

"S-So, back to Barbies," Matthew attempts to continue. Gilbert brushes off the entire encounter and picks up his doll.

"Alright, so these girls are porn stars, and they're going to shoot a sex tape over here," Gilbert snatches Matthew's doll and slams it against his, grinning frenziedly while Mattie cries.

"What're you doing? Stop it, Gil!" Matt tries to take his doll back, but the German holds them back farther to the side.

"Make me!"

"_Gilbert Beilschmidt! _Listen to me!"

Red eye pauses his doll's make out session and gazes at Matthew. "What?"

"What do you mean, 'what'? It's wrong!"

"No it's not," Gil smirks.

"Yes it is!" blondie accuses, trying to swat at the playthings.

Gil holds them over his head teasingly and explains, "But they're lesbian porn stars, so they can do whatever they want!"

"That's not the point!" Curly-Q shouts, motioning his hands to the obscenities the Prussian had created. "You aren't supposed to play with dolls like that!"

"Fine, Mr. Knowitall," Gilbert tosses the pigtailed Barbie back at Matthew. "Show me how it's _supposed_ to be done."

Matt looked at his doll with a brow raised as he replies, "I don't know! I'm a boy! All I know is that you're not supposed to do _that_ with them!"

"Psh, whatever," Gilbert jerks his shoulders away from the other boy and creepishly toys with the figure's snow white locks. "Me and McPimp-ass will just play without you!"

"C'mon, don't be so childish!" Matthew relaxes his shoulders and tilts his head.

Gil whips back around and shoves the baby back in his face, "Look at this! I have no other choice than to be childish!"

"Okay, but at least pretend you're having fun," Mattie compromises. Gilbert rolls his eyes and tosses the doll onto the desk as he rises, scooting the chair far out from underneath him with the back of his leg.

"I'm going to the bathroom," the moody teenager declares with hands stored in his uniform pockets as he struts his way to the classroom door.

The teacher starts, "You have to ask properly, Mr. Beilschmidt—"

"Don't care," he interrupts, wavering his hand soaking in sass, Matthew noticing how the cuff of his black sweatshirt formed around his wrist and palm.

"_Goddammit_, Gilbert!" Matthew exclaims with an irritated frown scrawled across his face. "Get back here!"

"Kiss my ass, Matthew! I'm going to take a piss!" He slams the door, causing the easy going boy to become startled and recoil his head into his shoulders. Everybody stops what they're doing to stare at Matthew, as if all of this were his fault.

"Hey, now!" the redhead wards. "It's not like this is the first time Gilbert's done something like this! Get back to work!"

The class becomes chatty as Matthew sits nonchalantly with his back against the the stiff chair and fingers through his Barbie's hair. He purses his lips as he lets his thoughts overtake his subconscious.

_What's so desperately wrong with him that I have to stop hanging out with him? _Matthew ponders, keeping his head down. _Is this what they meant?_

* * *

"An hour! Who needs a whole hour to use the bathroom?" the instructor shouts, snorting air out her flared nostrils like a pissed off bull.

"Maybe it's a medical condition," Matthew softly defends, glancing around the room.

"Yeah, if you consider being a giant _dick_ _weed_ a medical condition," Carlos insults in the German's name.

"Exactly what you smoke in the bathrooms, Carlos," Li shames. The Cuban flips his middle finger as the teachers runs her fingers through her hair.

"Look, can we talk about poor life decisions later?" she rhetorically recommends. "Right now, we've got a problem on our hands."

"So he's being a big crybaby and pouting by the urinals. Who gives two shits about him?" Lukas disgraces as Christensen snarls at him.

"I-I can go and get him," Mattie suggests in a hush tone.

"Ha! What's a shy boy like you gonna do?" Carlos teases. Matt places the doll onto the desk top gently and stands straight, making it from there to the door. He journeyed down the halls and reached the first bathroom in sight.

Pushing open the door, Matthew pokes his head marginally inside and calls, "G-Gilbert? Are you in here?"

"You didn't bring fuckboy or Tits McGee, did you?" a voice speaks, invisible to Mattie's view.

"No."

"I'm in the big stall."

"Gil, I'm _not_ going in there," Matthew denies. "Just come out."

"Jesus _Christ_, even _you're_ on my ass," Gilbert unlocks the door and slams it against the other side of the stall, making the Canadian cower in shock. "What do _you_ want?"

"What do you _think_, smart ass?" Matthew collects his serious disposition and asserts, "Why did you pull that little stunt back there?"

The corners of the albino's mouth curl to bare his pearly whites, "Who are you to talk to me like that?"

"Matthew _shit-fucking_ Williams, now cart your ass back to class," the once seemingly soft teenager stresses firmly.

His red eyes morph bigger as Matthew yells at him, making his expression indifferent. Gilbert slowly makes his way around the other boy as he mutters, "Right."

"Damn straight, now, haul ass," Matthew aggressively insists, stalking after the boy.

Gilbert struts into the hallway and follows the path back to the classroom, occasionally checking behind him to see if Matthew was still there. As the two inched back in the room, the teacher asks, "Oh, thank God you brought him back, Matthew."

"No problem," Mattie welcomes sweetly, causing Gilbert to nearly choke over his own spit at his sudden attitude change. "Sit back down, Gil."

"Why are you so bipolar?" the Prussian asks, half serious.

"Because." He adjusts his chair. "Unlike everyone else, I don't take your bullshit."

"But why did you have to say all those curse words? It doesn't suit you."

"Get back to work, Gilbert."

They continue the worksheet the teacher had handed out during the boy's absence, but decides to keep talking. "Hey, Birdie?"

"Yes, Gillie?" he responds, deeming his classwork worthy of most of his attention.

Gilbert exhaled, "I'm sorry for how I've acted today. It's just, school really pisses me off, you know?"

"No, I don't know." Matthew glances up, "But I accept your apology."

A moment of silence is torn apart from the albino's neverending talking. "Is that all?"

Although he knows exactly what he wants, the blond answers, "Yes."

* * *

"Wow, Al. You actually came to pick me up today," Matthew insults as he climbs into his brother's vehicle.

Mattie fastens his seatbelt as the louder American teen bursts, "Yeah, Artie's got student council today."

"Aw, can't play with your little 'friend with benefits' today?" Matt teases.

"That was sophomore year, and I thought you were done with that joke."

"Imagine telling your future kids how you met your husband. That'll be funny as all hell."

"Shut it, Eskimo."

Alfred steers out of the parking lot and waits in the long line of cars lingering the exit for the buses to depart. Just as Alfred sulks when Matt continues to tease him about the beginnings of his love life, a heart stopping, surprising, knock bangs out on the passenger side window.

"_Holy shit, Gilbert!"_ Alfred screams, accidentally honking the car horn in the process. The white haired adolescence smiles widely as he swats his hands for someone to roll down Matthew's window, as done by the Canadian himself.

"Birdie! What're you doing!" Gilbert asks, pulling out his black Assassin's Creed hoodie.

"Uh, I'd say I'm going home, but I guess that's the wrong answer," Matthew says in his clueless tone of voice.

"Damn right!" Gil gestures his hand, "Get your ass out that car and come with me!"

Matthew glances back at a red faced Alfred, mouthing something. Blondie interjects, "What's that, Al? Did you want to say something?"

Alfred leans in with a solemn aspect and whispers, "Remember what I told you earlier."

Matt blinks and turns from his brother back to Gilbert indecisively. "Uh, I—"

"If you want to hang out with your brother, I understand." Gilbert slowly begins to step off, but he adds, "But I may or may not have pancakes back at my house."

Knowing he was out of pancake materials at his own home, Matthew becomes as wide eyed as a lolita anime character and rolls out of the car. Startled, Alfred fumbles, "Uh, I, _Matthew!_ Get back here!"

"Sorry Alfie," Matthew closes his door and finishes his explanation through the open window, "We don't have pancakes. He does."

Mattie starts to follow Gilbert to his navy vehicle in front of his brothers', but Alfred catches his attention, "Wait a second! Don't tell me you're gonna leave me because of that!"

"I go where the pancakes go!" the wavy haired blond clarifies as he accompanies his shady albino friend. Matt seats himself in a new car, putting on another seat belt as he asks, "Were you serious aboot the pancakes?"

Gilbert's face is shadowed with a devilish aspect as he answers, "Sorry, kid. There was never any candy in the back of my van."

"W-What?" Matthew chuckles.

Gil lurches from his seat over to Mattie, his left knee supporting his body on the storage compartment between them and his back hunched up against the roof, and curls his fingers menacingly above at him. "You're going to get molested in the back of my creeper SUV, kid!"

"Your accent makes you sound like a vampire," Matthew accuses, giggling and forcing his back to the passenger side door.

The German pauses, relaxing his fingers and shoulders for moment, but goes back to stature, "Then I'm going to suck your blood!"

Gilbert collapses onto the unsuspecting sweetheart, placing his arms on his seat with the boy in between them and jokingly bares his teeth close to the other's face. Just as soon as Matthew climaxes in laughter, starting to curl up in a ball, a tap rattles on the driver's side of the car. Gilbert quickly gets up off his knees and slowly rolls down the window.

"Can I help you?" he asks sarcastically.

"Access denied, asshole," Alfred disagrees, giving a dirty look. "Back off."

"Hey now! It's nothing like that!" Gilbert half-assedly reassures. He leans closer and whispers, "But shouldn't Matthew be the one to decide who he has hanky panky with, now that we're on the topic?"

"Shut your hole, old fag!" Matthew inserts, eyebrows furrowed.

"Why the hell are you so foul mouthed, Birdie?" Gilbert asks sarcastically while punching the gas, speeding out of the parking lot and leaving Alfred standing where they were, dumbfounded.

Matthew jerks his body around to get a glance of his brother's expression and cackles, "What a dumbass!"

"It's a wonder how Arthur deals with him," Gil adds.

After a few seconds of silence, gazing out of the slightly tinted windows, Matt revolves his head to Gilbert and inquires, "Hey, where are we even going?"

"I don't know, to be honest," Gilbert confesses. "Because I lied about the pancakes just so I could get you to drive home with me, instead."

"Oh, but I need to get home and take my medication, or mom's gonna be pissed," Matthew excuses. Gil gives an understanding grunt and changes his path back to the Canadian's house.

* * *

"Hey, Al. Are you home yet?" Matthew drops his bag and slips his shoes off in the mudroom and shimmies into the kitchen. He glances around for a second and proceeds up the stairwell, opening his brother's bedroom. "Empty."

Matt shuffles into the room next to his to check if his parents came home, but just went to sleep. He goes to open the door, but fails. "It's locked," he whispers.

Mattie crouches down and strains his vision through the keyhole to get a better look. He sees his father, without clothing, topping a feminine figure, obviously making love to her. He steers his head to get a clearer look and finds a brown haired woman underneath him.

"Again?" he weakly whimpers, feeling to urge to cry.

Matthew fights back his tears and rises to his feet, trudging them to his bedroom. He throws open his closet door and fetches a duffle bag, along with a few articles of his school uniform and a single t-shirt. Blondie whips around and stuff them in the bag, reaching his pillow and a Supernatural fleece throw blanket. With the carryall packed to the max, the last thing Matthew grabs is his stuffed polar bear.

He angrily storms back downstairs and to the kitchen and grabs all of his Rx bottles. Next, the mudroom, throwing his backpack over his shoulder as well and putting his shoes back on. Huffing out the front door, Matthew feels like a pack mule, or one of those freaks of nature on "Hoarding: Buried Alive".

Matt digs in his pocket and grabs his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he reaches "G". Putting the phone against his ear, cutie pie clears his throat to renew his mixed emotions and to begin the conversation.

"Hey, Gilbert?" he asks, resisting his usual tendency to cry. "Do you think I could come over?"

"_What is it? You didn't want to hang out with me earlier! Why did you change your mind?"_

"I just need a break. Please?"

Gilbert, on the other line, sighs, "_For how long?"_

"All night?" Matthew asks warily.

"_Whoa, what's going on?"_

Feeling his throat growing bigger, Matthew opens his mouth for the final time, "Just come and get me. I'll be walking somewhere around the street I live on." He hangs up.

* * *

Matthew wanders down the street for what felt like the millionth time, wondering if Gilbert will find him. He exhales as he recalls earlier events. He clenches his fists and drops his head low so no one can see him break down.

"I wish I could tell mom," he mutters inaudibly, starting to breathe heavier. "Or Alfred."

Matthew takes a big gust of wind and continues his journey. He stops at a crosswalk for a brief moment before crossing the street without even looking both ways. As blondie steps out into the road, he gets a force of fear stricken through him like lightning and hears the recognizable honk of a car horn.

"Matthew!" Gilbert lunges his upper body out of the car window, his burly arms supporting his colossal muscle mass. "What are you doing? Don't you know you're supposed to look both ways when crossing the street?"

Matthew gives a hint of a grin on his lips and approaches the vehicle. He gets in the empty passenger seat and throws his shit in the back. As he does so, a grunt flies from an unsuspecting passenger, causing Mattie to turn around to apologize.

"I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—"

The blond Frenchman winces as he rubs the side of his face, "What the hell? Are you trying to fucking kill me!"

Matthew throws himself back into the seat as he disregards, "Oh, nevermind. It's only Francis."

"_Mon dieu,_ you're so rude!" Francis insults jokingly.

"What were you doing, Birdie!" Gilbert returns to topic. "You had me scared shitless when you called!"

"I just can't stay at home tonight, that's all," Matt partially reveals.

"Why? Did your parents call you out and kick you to the curb for the night?" he suggests.

"No, it wasn't anything like that. I chose to leave," he clarifies, folding his arms.

"Not forever, right?"

"No, I'm going back tomorrow. It should be over by then."

"What's wrong?" the grass eyed Spaniard asks.

Matthew lowers his head, "I don't think I'm allowed to say."

Francis and Antonio reach over Matthew's seat and start playfully poking him and playing with his hair to get an answer out of him. "Aw, come one, Mattie! Tell us!"

"Fine! Just get off me!" Matthew giggles. The two put their limbs back where they belong and blondie lies, "I just saw Alfred and Arthur."

"Doing what?" Gilbert wriggles his eyebrows at the Canadian as the other two laugh hysterically.

"You know _what!_"

"That must be so stressful for such an innocent boy like you, Mattie," Francis condoles.

"Oh! Did you know Birdie isn't so innocent as you think? Gilbert adds, making Matthew's eyes fly open.

"_Sacré bleu,_ Matthew!" Francis cover his bottom lip with the tips of his fingers.

"Who was it?" Antonio asks shamelessly, apparently unaware of what the term "innocent" means and its sensitivity to people.

"I'm not telling!"

"Fine," Gilbert states before anyone can say anything as he pulls into a long gravel driveway. Matthew checks through the mirror and discovers the two goons in the backseat smiling evilly at each other. He raises an eyebrow as each of them take one of Matthew's bag and he gives his thanks.

"Thanks for taking my bags, I guess. But I'm perfectly capable of—what the hell are you doing!"

Gilbert had faced the lightweight and threw him over his shoulder, running straight for door with Francis and Antonio scurrying shortly after him with giggles infesting their speech. Out of surprise of current events, Matthew wraps his legs around the albino's waist and claws his fingers onto the back seam of his shirt, clinging for dear life. Gilbert slows down when they reach a bedroom of some sort, where he proceeds to drop the Canadian onto a bed. The German remains on top when the others come in and Matthew finds it a perfect opportunity for questioning.

"What the hell is wrong with you guys! You're acting like a bunch of weirdos!"

Francis and Antonio smirk at each other and decide to jump on the bed, as well. Matt squeals and crosses his arms over his eyes as he anticipates what kind of means he's to come to.

"Tell us who it was!" Gilbert demands from above.

"Over my dead body!" he jokes.

"You heard him, boys," Gil leads on. "Why don't we do just that?"

The three trouble makers glance at each other for non verbal approval and dog pile onto the frail boy. Matthew, overwhelmed, reveals, "Fine, _fine!_ It's was Ivan! Now get off before you kill me!"

Francis and Antonio, clearly impressed and satisfied with their efforts, do as Matthew wishes, sitting upright on the bed. Gilbert, on the other hand, seems a little less than pleased.

"Wait, so you went out with that huge guy that knocked you over in the hallways earlier?" Gil asks, a dazed look in his eyes.

"Yeah, the beginning of junior year," Matt makes known. "He showed me around on my first day and we dated shortly after. But after we hit it, it didn't last for much longer."

Apparently not fulfilled, the albino asks curiously, "Are you gay or something?"

Matthew immediately converts to pasty pale to the color of the askers' eyes, "I, um. _Sorta?_"

"Bi?"

"S-Sure, if that's what you want to call it." In all honesty, Matthew had no idea. He wasn't sure if he was straight, gay; he was just as confused as his group of friends.

"Aw, Matthew! Don't be ashamed!" Francis, who's now sitting on the floor, takes Matt's hands in a supportive fashion. "I like boys and girls, too!"

"Well, Matthew isn't a cheap whore like you, Francis," Antonio insults with a happy grin spread on his face while Francis shoots a less amused one.

"Well, you're staying the night, right Birdie?" Gilbert changes the subject.

"Yeah?" Matthew half answers. The other three boys jerks their heads to each other just the same as they did when they abducted Matthew for information. "What is it?"

All three look back at the clueless Canadian and smirk, Gilbert suggesting, "Sleepover?"

Mattie respires, "Fine with me."

The trio jumps to their feet and clomp poor Mattie, leaving him very little room for air. With Francis behind him, sniffing the top of his head, Gilbert and Antonio doting him from the sidelines. The light skinned boy coos, "Aww, Mattie! You have no idea what you're in for!"

"What?" he nervously stumbles. Gil and Frenchie smack Antonio mildly on the back of his head in discipline. The three let go as Matt asks, "What're guys planning to do with me?"

"_Mon dieu,_ Mattie," Francis hushes, stroking a piece of his silky, wavy hair. "You must take better care of your gorgeous as fuck hair."

"Huh?"

* * *

"This is bullshit," Matthew cringes his nose.

Antonio halts his work to reassure, "Just sit for, like, five more minutes."

"Sit still! I'm not done yet, Birdie!" Gilbert forbids.

His breath hitches, "Boy, do I have some shitty friends or what?"

"Shh, I'm concentrating!"

"If only you payed the same amount of attention in school, Gillie, maybe then you'd actually pass."

"Who's the one with your hair?"

"Guess who doesn't give a fuck?"

The German short haired tugs on his wheat blond locks, causing the fragile boy sitting criss crossed on the floor to recoil in pain.

"You're a shithead, you know that?" Matthew cries, pouting his bottom lip half seriously. Francis, across from of the wrongdoer, smacks him on the back of his white head.

Frenchie wards, "Stop being an asshole for two seconds, Gilbert!"

Gilbert cringed in shock, accidentally yanking Blondie's hair again. Mattie yelps out once more and Antonio laughs, "Gil, you're so clumsy!"

"A-Are you guys done yet?" Matthew asks desperately, craning his neck to his now upright knees. "You're starting to hurt me."

"Pretty hurts, darling," Francis accuses, concentrating on the few strands of the other boy's hair in his fingers. He holds the intermingled piece single handedly as he reaches over to retrieve a hair tie to secure it. Matthew winces as the three boys continue to toy with his semi long locks. Gilbert and Francis continue to argue as they finish up, resulting in the Prussian pulling on the poor cutie pie's scalp again.

"Ow! Okay," Matthew attempts to brush the three off of him. "You're done."

"Okay, but check out how lovely you look!" Francis proclaims, guiding Mattie to a mirror.

Matthew stares unfeelingly at his head full of braids that looked like a blind boy scout styled it and scowls, "They look like shit."

"Why would you think that?" Francis takes deep offense.

"It looks like I have dreadlocks," Matt explains, carefully playing with a braid. "_Shitty_ dreadlocks."

"Well, we always do this to Lovi," Antonio passively argues. "Your hair's different from his, you know? So it's harder to work with."

"At least leave one of them in?" Gilbert frantically bargains.

Matthew respires and points to a piece of hair on the side of his head, "You can leave _this_ one in, but take the others out."

Gil jerks his fist exaggeratedly behind him, exclaiming, "That's what I thought! Awesome Gil is more stylish than that ass face!"

"_Excusez moi?"_ Francis gasps as Matthew starts unraveling his locks.

"I did that one, dickhead," Gilbert clarifies, pointing at Mattie's head.

"Wrong, loser," Francis rams his finger into Gil's chest. "_I _did that one."

Violet eyes shoot a disgruntled glare at the red ones next to him and Gilbert shut up before he even began speaking.

* * *

"What's _this_ for?" Matthew questions, rattling the handcuffs fettered onto his wrist.

Gilbert hushes him, "Shh, we're gonna get caught!" Gil hunches down lower, bringing Mattie with him and finishing, "You're supposed to be quiet during cops and robbers!"

"I don't remember the game going anything along the lines of this," Matt confesses, sighing deeply.

"Shh! I hear them coming!"

Two sets of footsteps come pounding across the hallway outside the door, not bothering the beings inside the room. The German suspires and catches, "I don't think they know of this place."

"Get off, Gil!" You're squishing me!" Matthew hisses, bringing his forceful palms to the albino's chest. Gilbert wriggles around and opens the door, letting the two boys out of the hidden broom closet. The pair straighten their postures and the red eyed one grabs ahold of the chain on the taller one's cuffs.

"Let's go! I'm almost winning!" Gilbert proclaims, running silently out of the room with Matthew tripping over his dominating power. Trailing shortly after Gil, Mattie grits his teeth and regrets ever leaving the house in the first place. He arrives back in the living room and waits patiently as Gilbert calls out, "I win!"

A pair of footsteps stomp down the stairs and present themselves as Antonio and Francis. The Frenchman throws his head back in defeat and curses, "_Fuck_ you, Gilbert!"

"Aw dammit! And we almost kicked your _culo,_" Antonio snarls.

"So that means I get to keep Birdie as my prisoner, right?" his expressions grow animated with excitement.

"Why am _I_ the prisoner?"

"Because that's what you get for losing the last game."

"I'm sorry I'm too classy to do any of your perverted dares in Truth or Dare," Mattie sasses with a bored expression on his face. "And before you start, gluing Cheez-Its to my nipples and asking the elderly in the neighborhood for a hickey until one says yes is raunchy and inexcusably filthy."

"Fine, let's go watch a movie or something," Gilbert settles, yanking Matthew by the links on his handcuffs and into the living room.

"Can we watch something I want to?" Matt speaks up.

"Fine," Gil sighs.

Wavy haired rattles his fetters and demands, "Uncuff me, first."

After retrieving the correct key and freeing Matthew from his shackles and he floats over to the television stand. Rummaging through the contents, he pulls out a DVD case, proclaiming, "Let's watch Mean Girls."

Gilbert squeals, jumping over to the Canadian and glomping him from behind, "Holy shit, Birdie! We really _are_ friends!"

"You're suffocating me, old man," Matt manages, attempting to squirm his way to freedom. Gilbert reluctantly lets go and snatches the DVD case from his fragile hands, popping the disc into the player and running back to the sofa. As he charges forth, Gil brings his arms out and takes Matthew with him, the Canadian landing on his derriere and the Prussian on his stomach.

Antonio laughs, "Oh, Gilbert! You're so desperate!"

Gil flips to his back, his hold on Matthew still present, and rests his head on the boy's lap. He points both his index fingers at the television and yells, "Play the movie!"

* * *

Gilbert rolls to his side and brushes the few strands of Matthew's closed eyes. "Psst! Birdie! Are you awake?"

Matthew flutters his eyes open, experiencing the stinging sensation that usually informed him that he did not get enough sleep. "What is it, Gilbert?"

"I can't sleep," he sighs.

"Well, _I_ can." He changes sides and faces the room instead of his needy friend. Still, that didn't stop him from his annoying antics.

"How's that supposed to help me?"

"Maybe it'll influence you."

"But, Mattie!" Gilbert uses his elbow to hold his upper body, then using the other to torment the Canadian. "Wake up!"

Matthew cringes and flops back over to face the German troublemaker. "What the hell could you possibly want?"

Gilbert retracts his arms into his chest and mumbles, "Do you want to talk?"

Mattie sighs, "Fine."

Gilbert lays on his back and gazes at the ceiling in a philosophical sort of attitude. "So, how's life?"

"So it's that late, huh?" his breath broke.

Gilbert nodded, "So, what's going on in Matthew's life?"

"Ask me that question one more time."

"Okay, I get it—move it, Francis!" Gilbert hisses at the Frenchman lying all over him from his left. After pushing the hugging Francis off of his side, Gilbert shields himself from any of the boy's future sleep lovings and continues talking to Matthew. "So, what was the whole phone call thing earlier about?"

"Antonio's crushing me," Matt procrastinates, trying to move away from the Spaniard who sprawled himself across cutie pie's legs.

Desperate to get an answer, Gil smacks Antonio, demanding, "Antonio! Move your dumb ass!"

The Latino sputters, not even bothering to crack open his eyes, and repositions his body by wrapping his arms around the Prussians' waist. Gilbert sighs and strikes up the conversation again, "See? He's off you, Now, tell me!"

"I don't think I want to," Matthew respires, closing his eyes.

"What? Can't you tell me?" Gil whines.

"Aren't you sleepy yet?"

"I'm not hopped up on drugs like you, canuck."

Mattie yawns, "Goodnight, Gilbert."

"Wait! Don't go out on me!" Gil weakly attempts to get his friend to stay awake. "I still can't sleep!"

Matthew buries his face underneath his covers and releases a little yawn, hoping that the hotheaded brat would get the hint. After about thirty seconds of unresponsiveness, he senses something warm on his forehead. Matthew reluctantly open his eyes to find Gilbert resting his head on his, his eyes closed but probably not sleeping just yet.

He smiles, liking the thought of lying in bed with his three best friends, especially his new one. Just the idea of Gilbert falling asleep close to him, trusting him enough to die temporarily for the night, made Matthew feel wanted or needed. And within a matter of minutes, he was in repose.


	5. Chapter 5

"_Get your asses up, three-day weekend!" _Gilbert cheerily chimes out from the kitchen. Matthew closes his eyes tighter and rests his head onto his pillow. A very warm, sort of firm pillow. He overhears footsteps and eventually the Prussian's voice again, "Hey, get off of Mattie!"

Matthew pays no attention to his childish behavior and continues to bask in the unknown warmth underneath his hair and the newly discovered source on his stomach until he feels the boy on top of him. Matt gasps, "What the hell is your problem?"

Gilbert disregards Matthew and focuses on the sleeping Frenchman. He halfway playfully wraps his fingers around Francis' throat and shakes him to a rude awakening, "What the hell do you think you were doing to Birdie, you perv!"

"Still don't know what your problem is, Gilbert" Matthew retorts, sitting up.

"This disgusting sleazebag was forcing you to sleep on top of his chest." Gilbert removes his hands from the now definitely awake boy and exchanges it for a dog like snarl instead.

Matthew rolls his eyes and looks down at his lap, discovering the second warmth was Antonio, sleeping like a baby. Mattie chuckles and brings his fingers through the light skinned boy's hair, muttering, "C'mon. Time to get up, Antonio."

"But I don't wanna," he whines. "You're so squishy and warm."

"Enough of that horseshit," Gilbert jumps from Francis to Antonio and hits him on the back of the head. "Get up."

"Fucking _Mary_, Gil," Antonio rubs the spot of impact, using the other arm to prop his body up off blondie.

"Anyways," Gilbert disdains, stretching his legs out and sitting down. "We have the day off, so what do you guys want to do?"

"Oh _merde_," Matthew surprisingly curses. "I thought we had school today."

"But we don't," Francis reiterates, handing Mattie his rimless glasses from the nightstand beside him. "You should be happy, right?"

"I only brought school clothes with me," he clarifies, sliding the bifocals up to the bridge of his nose.

"No worries! You can borrow my clothes! You'll look awesome!" Gilbert offers.

Matthew yawns and plummets back onto the much more comfortable mattress. Jokingly, Francis lays back down, too, and cuddles up by the younger boy. Gilbert grits his teeth and forbids, "You're crossing the line with that, asswad."

The longer haired blond laughs and sits up right away, not wanting to feel the German's wrath of white hot fury. Matthew joins in, "Make me breakfast, old man."

"You better hope you're not talking to _me_, Mr. Williams," Gilbert rhetorically inquires.

Mattie rolls out of bed, the other three trailing behind him, and enters the kitchen. He turns to Gilbert, "Where the hell are my pancakes, eh?"

"Make them yourself, canuck," Gilbert yawns, leaning his head on the Canadian's shoulder for support.

Matthew rests his head on the albino's and gapes as well, muttering, "Better get started, then."

"Wow! Would you just look at all that PDA!" Antonio giggles, poking at Gilbert's bicep. Hothead snaps and jerks his arms at Antonio, trying not to disrupt Mattie, and snatching the boy's wrist threateningly.

"Don't ruin this for me, asswipe," the Prussian growls. Matthew inhales a sharp breath of air to prepare himself and begins for the kitchen cabinets, leaving Gilbert standing meaninglessly in the entryway.

"Pancakes?" Matt asks.

Gil shakes his head shamefully, "_Nein."_

Mattie looks down and pouts his bottom lip, influencing Gilbert to invite, "Why don't we go to IHOP or something?"

Mattie shoots up and claps his hands, "Okay! I'll go get dressed!"

* * *

Gilbert leads the quartet out onto the car park and asks, "So, what're we going to do after breakfast?"

"_Jeez_, calm your ass down! Why don't we _eat_ first?" Matthew sasses, Gil glaring daggers at him and crossing his muscular arms. "You always do that."

"Couples quarrel over there," Francis jokes, pointing to a group of smokers and possible drug dealers outside the exit.

Matt laughs, "There's _no_ way in Hell you'd ever see me with this douchebag."

"I take offense in that," Gilbert scoffs. "I'll have you know that I can be the best thing that could ever happen to you."

Matthew scoffs, laughing, "Dream on."

"Let's just go in! Or everybody's gonna eat the pancakes instead of us!" Antonio rationalizes and all four waltz inside and take a table.

* * *

"Wow, I'm so surprised you can eat that many pancakes," Francis smiles in awe.

"Dude, you're a machine!" Antonio praises.

Matthew gapes, "Woah, that's impressive."

Gilbert hoofs on his fifteenth pancake and pumps his fists triumphfully in the air, exclaiming, "I'm the king! Way better than the Canadian."

Mattie gives a slow clap and congratulates. "Good job, Gil. You're officially a fat ass."

Gil points his fork dangerously at Matthew and threatens, "Watch your mouth, boy."

"All jokes aside," Francis interjects. "You should really slow your roll."

He asks in a muffle from behind his breakfast, "Why?"

"You're gonna puke!" Antonio proclaims with wide eyes. "And I gotta see Lovi later. I'm not going covered in your vomit!"

"I thought we were going to hang out today," Gilbert pouts as he stabs his food aggressively, making Matthew uncomfortable that he was sitting next to him.

Matthew toys with his fork and leftovers and inquires, "But aren't we?"

"Not if dumbass is going to go see his boyfriend." Gilbert looks towards Frenchie, "And you're probably going somewhere later, too, right?"

"But we spent the night together and we have a free day off!" Francis argues. "And I kinda want to go and meet this girl. Remember the tour guide thing I did last weekend?"

"The one that made you look like a pedo?"

"Her name's Lisa," Francis' eyes glaze over with hopes and daydreams as Gilbert interrupts.

"I thought you were done with dating for a while. You know, since you crashed and burned with Joan."

The longer haired blond darts his deep blue eyes and whimpers, "What did you say?"

"You and Joan burned out like a light," Gil elaborates as he stuffs more pancakes into his piehole. "More like burned down like wildfire."

Francis' happy face dissolves to a solemn aspect and he rises, "I'm going out to the car."

The blue eyed boy paces out of the restaurant and the Hispanic excuses himself, "I'll go, too."

As Matthew watches his friends go out the the parking lot, he made sure they were gone before he made his next move. He turns to the German and hits him the hardest he can on the back of his head. Due to it being out of unexpected, Gilbert almost lands face down in his plate as he shouts, "What the hell do you think you're doing!"

"That's what you get for being an asshole!" Matthew defends his actions. "I can't _believe_ you'd say something like that!"

"It's not _my_ fault Francis can't keep a date," Gilbert lazily bickers.

"But you didn't have to bring it up in public, _jerk_," Matthew insults as he stands.

"Where in the hell do you think _you're_ going?" Gil exaggerates.

"Out," Matt stresses.

"Fine! See if _I_ care!"

"Good!"

"_Great!"_

"_Quit yelling!"_

"_Then leave!"_

Matthew pouts his bottom lip and scowls at the Prussian before his storms off the meet the others in the parking lot. Once there, he approaches Francis slowly and asks, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" Francis brushes off. "Sorry you had to see that. Gil can kind of get like that once in awhile."

"Like what? An asshole?" Matthew jokingly suggests.

Francis and Antonio laugh in the bad name of their friend and the tanned skinned brings up, "What's weird about the whole thing is he only acts like that when he's around someone he likes. You know, protective instincts, and all."

Matthew stares blankly at Antonio as Francis includes, "Ooh, I think you're right, Annie!" He eyes Matt and affixes, "You know, Gil _is_ kinda stingy when it comes to his favorite jacket."

Mattie looks down at himself and recognizes, "Yeah, so what?"

"Assassin's Creed is, like, his favorite videogame of all time!" Antonio marvels. "And it's so unlike him to offer his Assassin's Creed merchandise to someone!"

"I _told_ you. I just forgot my regular clothes, and Gilbert probably only lent me his out of kindness."

"Kindness of a _different_ sort?" Francis wriggles his eyebrows. Just before Matthew got to sock the Frenchman in his kisser, Gilbert comes out of the restaurant and approaches them.

"Hey, man," Gil starts, facing Francis. "Sorry how I acted back there."

Francis swats his hand dramatically and disdains, "It was nothing!"

"Okay, so I guess I have to take you guys back home."

Antonio and Francis jump in the car as soon as Gilbert unlocks it while the German holds back with Matthew.

"I'm sorry about all that," he starts, "I wasn't myself."

"And neither was I," Matthew includes.

"I wonder what you see in me now," he snorts, half laughing.

"Nothing," Matt executes.

He quirks a brow, "Huh?"

Matthew clears his throat to change his tone, "I don't see anything. You're just the same as when we came here. Nothing bad, nothing good."

Gilbert stares with an eyebrow raised at Matt warily and concludes, "Okay, so I guess you can get in the car now."

Matthew nods his head and climbs into the back seat of the Regina George look alike vehicle and Gilbert soon follows into the driver's side.

"So, what were my favorite couple discussing?" Francis leans onto Matthew to squeeze the answer out of him.

"We're not a couple, you bearded cock fondler," Matt insults, pushing the long haired blond off of his shoulder. The car takes off from the parking lot and scares the three passengers.

"Language!" Gil reminds as if the arguing pair were his children, his hands with a firm grip on the steering wheel. "I'm going to turn back around and leave you two there if you keep that shit up!"

"_Jesus_ _Christ_, Gil!" Francis complains. "Why are you so bad at driving? It's like everytime we you drive us somewhere, you nearly hit pedestrians and always run over my flower garden!"

"Honestly," Gilbert starts sarcastically. "Most of the time I'm driving, I'm either buzzed or dead drunk. And you know I'm not used to driving this thing—"

"Yo were you drinking today? What the fuck were you thinking!" Matthew outbursts, bringing his upper body closer to scold him by grabbing onto 'Annie's seat. "God, I don't believe you! Are you stupid or something!"

The German shifts his blood eyes at him through the mirror and corrects, "Chill out, because I didn't! I knew I'd have to drive you guys, so I layed off for today!"

Mattie crosses his arms and bounces his back again into his seat as he ponders, _Is this what everyone's telling me besides to his obvious punk ass attitude?_

"You better hope you never drive with me if you're drunk off your ass or I'll tear you a new one," Matt growls through his gritted teeth.

"You know," Gilbert raises his shoulders to indicate who he's speaking to. "You've got quite a dirty mouth for a softball such as yourself."

"Ooh!" Francis squeals, patting his cheeks like a middle school girl after watching her two guy friends kiss in a game of Truth or Dare around a bonfire. "And you're going to clean up his filthy mouth with your tornado tongue, right?"

"You're making me uncomfortable sitting next to you," Matthew scooches closer to the window away from the perverted teen.

"Oh come _on!_" Francis blows off. "You _know_ you _want_ to."

"No, I don't!" Mattie affirms. He raises a fist underneath his friend's chin and threatens, "You'd better shut your mouth if you know what's good for you."

Francis gives a nervous chuckle and shoots his eyes the opposite way, nonverbally pleading for help. "G-Got it."

"Alright, don't kill each other back there," Gilbert heads as the quartet roll out of the vehicle. Francis and Antonio race to the house, as they're needed elsewhere, but Matthew and Gil stray behind the pack. The German purses his lips as he jerks his head towards Mattie, whose attention is in the clouds. Whitey speaks up, "I've been more concerned with the other two, I haven't even thought about asking you."

"Asking me what?" Matthew inquires.

As the pair approach the house, Gilbert turns to Matt, "Do you want to do anything with me today? Like, maybe, just us?"

Matthew ponders the possible activities his family may want to do against what Gilbert would want to do. "Yes, I would. Sounds like fun."

Gil smiles mischievously and steps inside, holding the door open for doll face. Upon entering, Matthew staggers to Gilbert's room to rummage in his duffel bag for his medication. Sliding said pills out of their bottles, Matt pops them into his mouth and ventures for the kitchen. He downs almost an entire glass of water and swallows his medicine. Matthew turns around and squeaks at the surprising presence of Gilbert.

"Y-You scared me," Mattie sputters with his hand over his heart for dramatic reasons.

"Sorry," Gil apologizes distractedly. "I was just watching you."

"Why?"

"It's interesting."

"You get off on watching me taking my pills?"

He shrugs like the laidback punk he is, "Sure."

Matthew cocks his head and continues further questioning, "Why?"

"I thought you were one way when I met you," Gilbert begins explaining, "but watching you do stuff like that makes me think all over again. It drives me crazy, at times."

Matthew slits his mouth open slightly in comprehension as he eyes the red eyed adolescent. "I'm going to ignore you."

Gil shrugs and takes off towards his bedroom, leaving Matthew alone with his thoughts. _I wonder why he's acting like that. Was it something I did?_

Before Matt can draw any sort of conclusion, a large pair of hands take hold of his shoulders. "'Ello Mattie!"

Matthew hunches his back over in relief as Francis pulls the boy into a doting embrace. "Why do you do that?"

"'Cause that's what friends are for!" Francis argues with a loving coo.

"Hugging?" Antonio generalizes as he, too, joins the horizontal dog pile on Matthew.

"Get off me, you guys," Matt stands to reason.

Gilbert comes strutting into the kitchen, taking notice of the ongoing activities, and exclaims, "Group hug!"

Yet, another person piled onto Matthew and exchanged his affections.

"You three are total idiots," violet eyed insults. Francis lays off the boy and bids him farewell. After the Frenchman and the Hispanic leave their juvenile warnings of precaution to Matthew about Gilbert, they leave to meet their parents outside like after an elementary girl's sleepover. After stalking the boys from the living room window, Gilbert runs back to the kitchen and Matt trails after in curious pursuit.

"What're you doing, old man?" Matthew sarcastically inquires. He discovers his German buddy rooting through the refrigerator in search of something. Gilbert turns around, sighing in relief as he slides down the fridge with a spoon in his mouth and a pint of ice cream in his palms.

"Are you eating?" Mattie interrogates, angling his head to get a clearer view.

Gilbert hoards his container further into his chest and defends, "_No."_

"Why're eating junk food _now?_" Matthew chuckles slightly. "Seems like something the others would've had fun doing."

"Because," Gil swallows. "I don't want to share with Annie or Frannie. They're kind of really stingy."

"Okay," Matthew disdains. "I'm going to get my wallet and stuff."

"_Ja_, whatever," Gil mumbles through his spoon.

Blondie sluggishly staggers back into the white haired teen's bedroom to retrieve his belongings. A diabolical and forbidden thought crosses Matthew's mind, giving it no time for a second ruling as he acts upon it. He rushes to the other boy's closet and opens the wooden shuttered doors. Careful not to get caught, Mattie secretly inspects the contents in search of answers. He gently picks up items to investigate and make note of them.

_I wonder if there's anything in here to help me understand,_ Matthew theorizes.

He cranes his neck to get at the things in the back of the closet, the things that'll be more helpful to solve his lingering accusations. He comes across a not-so-secretive stack of porn and a deep crimson box. Matthew glances behind him to ensure privacy and he retrieves the case, his fingertips clinging to the suggestive red satin. Matthew stays cautious not to get caught, he sticks the box only halfway out of the closet to examine its contents. The lid cracks open and the Canadian marvels at what he discovers.

"Woah, I think _this_ is what everybody's been warning me about," Matthew whispers, not allowing the statement to be imprisoned in his thoughts. His royal purple eyes stare as his feminine hands pick up various bottles of lightly tinted liquids and a long, heavy chain settled at the bottom. He picks up one of the bottles and instantly chucks it back, whining a little louder than before, "Eww, it's wet!"

Matthew overhears footsteps approaching the room and he quickly stashes the box in the back of the closet as neat as he can manage in a few seconds time. He slides over to his overnight bag to pretend to look for something and wipes his hands on the interior as Gilbert comes barging in.

"What's taking you so long? Did you get lost in Narnia, or something?" Red eye whines as he looks down at the adolescent.

"N-Nothing," Matthew grows nervous at the mention of the other boy's closet. He rises to his feet and inquires, "Are we leaving or what?"

The Prussian nods his head and turns on his heels as the Canadian pursues.

* * *

"So, having fun?" Gilbert asks rhetorically, looking up slightly at Matthew. The boys canter down the sidewalk in a prolonged search for another activity to do together, since the German's outlandish suggestions of bungee jumping, strip clubs, and bar hopping was immediately ruled out by Mattie. Additionally, the two had already hit just about every candy shop in sight, so they were running out of options.

"Hell, _I'm_ not the one who gets outside a lot," Matthew argues. "Just pick somewhere or something reasonable and I'll go."

Gilbert shifts his head to get a glance of his options, since the boys wandered themselves into a shopping district. He discovers a place and recommends, "Why don't we go in there?"

Matthew angles his neck to get a look at the building whitey pointed to and his face lights up. "Yeah! Let's go!"

Gilbert take the lead into a little shop and bursts in proudly with Matthew shyly following inside. He basks in the inviting scent of coffee that nourishes the smile growing on his face. "I _do_ love coffee."

"That's what canucks like you do, after all," Gilbert teases.

"Keeps us warm in the winter, eh?"

The two approach the counter and the cashier introduces, "Hi, how can I help you?"

Having remembered from the last time they went out, Gilbert orders their drinks as Matthew glances up at the woman taking their order. A beautiful girl, around her late teens or early twenties, with short blonde hair and blazing green eyes. Her perfume's potent scent lingers behind her like a shadow as she goes to make their order. She hands them their drinks and Gilbert pays, leaving Matthew to go reserve a table somewhere. He selects a two person table with the long legged stools by the front window of the cafe. Red eye comes to his side shortly after and seated himself in front of the wavy blond.

"So, Gil," Matthew starts as the other begins drinking his coffee. "I'm pretty surprised you didn't try to hit on that girl who took our order."

He lowers his cup and croaks, "Huh?"

"Well, like," Matthew tries to think of an example. "When you took me out to the mall, you flirted with that lady at the cafe, and then the one at the ice cream place. It's weird that you didn't try to hit on the lady over there, since she was kinda pretty."

Gilbert's confused frown lifts to a grin as he chuckles kindheartedly. Matthew raises an eyebrow and inquires, "What is it?"

Between breaths, Gil explains, "That's Felix. We went to elementary school together. And he's kind of a dude."

Matthew's eyes morph to giant purple marbles and he buries his face in his overlapped arms on the table top. "I'm really sorry! _God_, I'm _so_ stupid!"

Gilbert reassures, "It's okay, Birdie. Everyone thinks he's a chick! I'm pretty sure his _boyfriend_ doesn't even know what he is!"

Matthew keeps his head down, but asks, "Really?"

"Really."

Mattie slowly picks up his head and begins drinking his coffee, mumbling, "I still feel stupid, though."

"Don't be!" He laughs, batting at the air. "He's a mystery to us all."

"I just can't _believe_ I did that," Mattie rests his chin on the table.

Gilbert swings his feet playfully under the table as he sips his hot coffee. After a few seconds, he accidentally kicks the blond softie in the shin. Matthew sits correctly right away and winces, "_Shit_, Gil. Watch where the hell you're swinging, eh?"

"_Tut mir leid,"_ Gilbert apologizes weakly. Suddenly, an evil smirk grimaces his face and he leans his body closer into the rounded edges of the table.

Matthew gives a lazy notice and mutters through his straw, "What're you doing?"

At this, Gilbert jumps at the available chance and lands his gigantic feet on the fragile boy's lap. Matthew lurches his upper body onto the table as he whines, "Gilbert!"

"_Ja?"_

"What are you doing to me?" he squints his eyes up at the albino. "You're being a weirdo!"

"Footsies," Gil demonstrates, going back to his beverage.

Mattie recoils, "Well, I don't like it! It's not cute!"

"It's not _supposed_ to be cute," Gilbert disses. "Consider it my way of showing you I'm comfortable around you."

He darts his eyes skittishly around the cafe to see if anyone else has taken notice. He recognizes a trio of middle aged woman a few tables away glaring daggers at, what Matthew felt like was, him. As he feels the emotionally shameful aftermath stinging from their eyes blazing through his essence, Mattie grabs the Prussian's shoes and looks him in the eye, "_Please_ don't do this."

Gilbert lifts his eyebrows at the Canadian but does as instructed. "What's got you so on edge, Birdie?"

Matthew looks through the corner of his eyes and observes the same clique of women scoff at the nickname. Gilbert nonchalantly brings his hand to the tabletop and furrows his brow, "_Was ist es?"_

Still taking glances at the group, Matt tries to revert his attention to his friend, but still remains a distant glazed over disposition. Gilbert regards Matthew's concentration is elsewhere and he whips his head to see what Blondie's looking at.

"Are they giving you trouble?" Gilbert puts two and two together. Matthew stays unresponsive and white haired takes it as his final answer. He shoves his chair out from underneath him and struts to the table. Putting his hands on his hips, Gil clears his throat, "_Guten tag, damen. _So, how are we?"

The women swap shocked glances as a few nod their heads or mumble incoherent phrases. Gilbert purses his lips and proceeds, "That's good. Mind if I ask you girls something?"

"What?" a—Matthew tries not to profile—soccer mom speaks up.

Gilbert leans on the table, his palm propping up the majority of his body weight. The woman looked longingly at his muscular arm but back into his blood red eyes when he speaks, "Anyone want to tell me what we're giggling about?"

A couple of the women inhale sharp breaths of resentment, but dare not to speak. Gilbert sweaters his eyebrows and interrogates, "Do you have a problem with blondie and me?"

"_Well,"_ soccer mom pipes up, "I was just saying how it pisses me off when someone attractive is with the wrong person, ya know?"

A spark surges through Gilbert as he snaps, "What're you saying? That my sweetheart over here is the wrong person for me?"

"He doesn't deserve someone as awesome looking as you. It doesn't do you justice."

Gilbert's eyes spring open and he stays silent, shaking his head in disgust. "I feel so sorry for you, ma'am, I really do."

"Why? _You_ were the one that stuck your nose in _our_ business."

"No, not that." Gilbert hangs his head low as he moves his hand over one of the woman's' iced coffees. _What the hell is he doing?_ Matthew wonders to himself.

Just before he can finish that thought, his eyes widen at what the Prussian does next. Gilbert takes a cup and removes the lid as he walks over to the soccer mom. She whips her head around to check on him, but it's too late. He holds the cup over her head and begins to slowly dump the icy liquid down her neck and backside. She flips out and forcefully slides the table halfway across the shop in appalment.

Gilbert rushes over to Matthew and grabs him by the wrist, hurrying, "Get a move on! We did _nothing_ to that woman, you hear me?"

Mattie blindly shuffles his feet to keep up with the German dragging the other half of his body by his arm. After throwing themselves into the navy blue convertible, Gil races out of the parking lot and integrates into the long line of traffic. Matthew laughs, "W-What was _that!_ It was like you were a completely different person!"

"That was called, 'teaching somebody a lesson,'" white haired explains his actions. "And she totally got what she deserved. Nobody's going to talk to you like that while _I'm _here."

Matthew doesn't converse, but rather sits in self reflecting silence. _Did he really just do that for _me?

Gilbert sounds, "Are you okay? Why are you just sitting there?"

"Uh, nothing," Matthew ignores his thoughts. "Just thinking of something else we can do."

"It's already four thirty-ish, so," Gil pouts his lips as he strains his neck to check traffic ahead, "we can go anywhere, really."

"I can't think of anyplace. And I think I have to go home to check on Al."

"Okay, I guess we can go back to my place and get your shit."

The car ride home was shrouded in silence and self reflection. Matthew was sure that neither of them knew exactly what happened back at the coffee shop, and just needed some time to think about it.

* * *

Matthew leaves Gilbert to indulge in the candy he had bought prior and heads back for his bedroom. Picking up his overnight bag, he glances at the closet and recalls the incident earlier. _So what? Is he sadistic? Is that it?_ He shakes his wheat blond hair, his curl of rebellion nodding along with him, and returns his presence to the German.

"I'm ready, old man," Mattie jokes with a staid tone.

Gilbert pouts and opposes, "I'm sick of you young people."

Matthew begins for the front door after him, only to be halted by Gilbert's pause in gait. He huffs, "What?"

"I forgot to show it to you earlier," Gil remembers, cocking his head and raising a directive finger. "But I suppose I can now."

"Huh?"

Gilbert releases his stance and heads for a door off from the hallway off from the front entrance. Letting his curiosity get the better of him, Matthew hauls himself to trail behind. He passes through the door in pursuit of the German and marvels at the sight beheld in front of him. Gilbert had ripped a large tarp off of a beautiful black Harley, decked out in orange and yellow flames. Matthew's mouth gapes to the floor as he enters the cool grey garage.

"Is this _yours?_" Mattie questions.

Gil shakes his head and adds, "You didn't think that gay little car was _mine_, _did_ you?"

"What do you mean? How is that not yours?"

"I'm not allowed to ride this anymore," Gilbert lightly pats the tank of the bike. "So, I drive Luddy's old car."

Matt approaches the bicycle to get a better glance and pries, "What aren't you allowed to ride it?"

"Parents won't let me," he states matter-of-factly. He makes air quotes, "Because I'm not responsible enough to drive it."

Matthew's facial expression loosens as he continued gazing at the chopper. "Oh, okay."

"Although, I _am_ pretty badass," Gil overachieves. Mattie rolls his eyes and suspires. "No amount of preppy cars will change that."

He retains his excitement and asks, "Can you still ride? I've never ridden a motorcycle before!"

"Really? _Never?_" he validates.

Matthew shakes his head, patting the bike and demands, "Take me for a ride!"

"Where?" Gil procrastinates.

Mattie's eyes widen, "Anywhere!"

"Alright, let's go," Gilbert agrees, grabbing his keys and helmets.

* * *

"Alfred, I'm home!" Mattie declares. A loud thumping echoes in the upstairs hallway and travels down the stairwell to him.

"Holy shit, Mattie!" Alfred screams, unnecessarily coiling his arms and legs around the taller boy as he jumps from the staircase. "You weren't here last night or today! And it's already, like, seven o'clock!"

"I'm well aware of that," Matthew sasses, stretching his neck as far back as he can away from cowlick.

Alfred returns his feet to their rightful place onto the ground, but kept his arms around his brother. "Where the hell were you! And who was the dude on the motorcycle that brought you back!"

"That was Gil," Blondie clarifies. "I spent the night with him, Antonio, and Francis, and he took me out again today."

Alfred pulls out and sends a wary look up to his brother. He pipes up, "You were riding with _Gilbert?_"

"Yeah, so what?" Matthew jerks his shoulder and heads to the kitchen for a snack.

Alfred follows and continues, "What are you, stupid? I'm surprised you came back in one piece!"

"What the hell do you mean, Alfred?" Matthew mutters from inside the refrigerator.

"Look, Mattie," Alfred begins hesitantly. "I'm gonna say this and you're gonna promise me you won't flip out, okay?"

"What're you talking aboot?" Matthew exaggerates.

Alfred clears his throat and forbids, "I don't want you hanging around Gilbert anymore."

Matthew ceases his current actions and turns around to calmly question, "What?"

"I don't think mom and dad would want you spending time with someone like him," Alfred rubs the back of his neck nervously. "And neither would I."

Matthew's eyebrow flinches as he argues, "Why the hell is everybody telling me that? And no one bothers to tell me what's wrong with him, but quick to say I'm doing the wrong thing!"

"Well, it's just," Alfred stumbles over his words. "There are just some things that are better left unsaid, yeah?"

"I'm sick of you saying that!" Matthew complains. "I don't see anything wrong with him!"

"That's just it," Alfie explains. "I'm afraid you'll find out when it's too late."

"Whatever," Matthew stomps out of the kitchen and ascends the stairs. "I don't care anymore!"

"Mattie!" he trails behind. "Don't act like this! I'm just protecting you! Please don't see him anymore!"

"I can't just _leave_ him! It's set up by the teachers!" Matthew yells as he steers for his bedroom. "I told you already!"

"I know, it's just, you've only known him for a few weeks!" Alfred bickers.

"Who cares how long I've known him for!" Matthew contradicts.

"Hang out with him only during school!" Alfred compromises. "It's not like you care that much, right?"

"It's not that _easy_, Alfred!" Matthew screams before he slams his bedroom door on the tanned American's face. He throws himself onto his bed to bury his face into his pillow. Matthew recalls that he left his belonging downstairs, down with his brother.

Keeping his head down, his hands reach out for something soft to rest his head on. His fingers touch a soft fabric and he curls them to retrieve the item. He lifts his head to see what he fished for, and he discovers that it's the Build-A-Bear chick he bought to make fun of said German. Matt flips to his back and holds the stuffed animal mid air to get a better look at it.

"I wish you were the real Gilbert," he speaks to the toy, "Gilbird".

Then, a high pitched voice shrieks, "_Matthew!_ What's going on!"

"_That fucking snitch,"_ cutie pie curses in a hush tone. He rises to his feet and purposely ventures sluggishly back downstairs to his overly concerned mother. "Yes, ma?"

"What's this Alfie's telling me aboot?" she interrogates, Alfred standing guiltily behind her. _Fucking snitch._

"It's nothing, mom," he convinces. "Just Al being an overprotective freak, as usual."

"Well, I think you're hanging out with that weird kid a lot, too, Mattie," she agrees with his opposite opinion.

"What do you mean?" For Christ's' sake, has even his mother turned on him?

"What he told me is that you spent all last night at his house with a few other kids, and all of today with the foreign boy."

"_Gilbert,"_ he corrects.

"Well, this 'Gilbert' person is awfully important to you, is he?"

"Yeah," Mattie reveals. "He's one of my best friends."

His mother ponders and comes to an agreement with herself, "Well, I hate to say it, but no more Gilbert for a while, and you can only hang out with him during school."

"But, _mom!_" Matthew childishly argues.

"No buts," she disciplines. "Take your medicine and go to your room."

After realizing he wouldn't be able to persuade her, Matthew staggers to the bottom of the staircase where he grabs his overnight bag with his pills inside and sloshes up the stairs.

* * *

The wavy haired blond attempts to close his eyes to fall asleep, but to no avail. He rotates from side to side to assess which is more comfortable. He lets his thoughts flood over him as if he plunged into the ocean to drown himself, and gets lost quickly in his own enigmatic mind. Matthew stretches his arms out forth with Gilbird in between them instead of the usual polar bear. He recalls, "I still don't know why Alfred acted like that with the whole motorcycle thing. He's so fucking childish."

The thought of his and Gilbert's bike ride earlier came back and the softie smiles, "That was pretty fun. It almost makes me miss that self absorbed prick."

An idea stakes Matthew like a bullet between the eyes and he bolts up, flailing his hands all over his bed sheets. His fingers uncover his cell phone from between the blanket crevices and slide across the screen. He subconsciously finds the Prussian's contact and discovers a new message.

_Today was totally bitchin! Of course, everyday with you is fun. You didn't get in trouble, did you?_

Mattie taps the text box and responds:

_Yeah, I kinda did. My mom said I'm not allowed to see you this weekend or come over for a while cuz I've been hanging out with you too much. _

After a minute of patience, his phone vibrates.

_What?! No fair! I'm gonna miss you! Who's gonna make my sandwiches?!_

_Watch your mouth or I'll slip some Viagra in your PB&amp;J nextime and knock your ass out._

_You're really disgusting._

Matthew forgets the task of sleep and continues to text the German, instead.

_Fuck, it's only 9:30 and I wanna go out somewhere :(_

_Are your parents making you stay in tonight?_

_Yeah. What's going on with you? Grounded?_

_What the hell u talkin about? I'm sly af I don't get caught by the rents._

_Whatever. I think I'm supposed to be sleeping, or at least not leave the house. That's the thing with my ma. I don't know if she grounded me or what._

A longer pause than the others and a new message pops up:

_Where are your parents? And Alfred?_

Matthew raises an eyebrow and texts back: _Ma and dad went on a date, I think, and Al's in his room. Why?_

A few minutes of a cease in conversation and Gilbert replies back.

_Get dressed and turn the light on. Look out your window when you hear a tapping noise._

_What're you planning to do, old man?_

After no reply, Matthew shrugs and decides to cooperate. He flips the light switch and stumbles to his dresser drawer, pulling out loose fitting jeans and a baggy crimson hoodie. After slowly getting dressed, he plops onto his bed to check his inbox for additional information from Gilbert.

"None," Mattie whispers to himself. He turns his Canadian maple leaf lock screen off and places his phone face down onto the end his bed. He plops his torso onto the blankets to reach for one of his Supernatural plushies that rests above his pile of pillows and stretches his legs out. Mattie suspires and retreats, flipping to his backside to rest. He senses his eyelids begin to meet as he stares at the blinding light ricocheting from the light off the white ceilings.

Just before he allows his body to become completely motionless, he hears a slight pinging noise on the window glass. His pex picks up the rest of his upper body like in an exorcism and he stands properly. He staggers to the window as another few light clinks simultaneously attack the glass again. Doll face shoves the window open to see what the commotion is and his jaw hits the sill.

"Hey, Birdie!" Gilbert hisses from the ground below his bedroom window. "Miss me?"

"Gil!" Matthew exclaims in a whisper. "What are you doing here!"

"You said you wanted to see me!" Gilbert smiles, but not as big as Matthew. "So, here I am!"

"What're you gonna do, oldie?" Mattie laughs, relaxing his shoulders a little.

"Come down here and I'll drive you there!"

Matthew warily looks over to the trellis adjacent to his window and winces, "I dunno if I can, Gil."

"What? Oh, come on!" he urges. "Just climb down that bitch like a ladder!"

"But what if I fall! Or it breaks!" Mattie worries.

"Don't worry, I'll catch you!" Gilbert assures. "And I parked my bike the next block over, so—"

Matthew gasps, "I'm coming, I'm coming! Just give me a minute!"

The Canadian turns back to his bedroom and retrieves his phone, stuffing it in his back pocket as he takes all of his plush toys and arranges them on the mattress accordingly. He takes his blanket and lays it overtop them, making it appear as if he were still asleep in his bed, and flickers the lights out. He rushes to the window and sits on the ledge, letting his legs dangle mid air in hesitation.

"What are you waiting for?" red eye asks sarcastically. "Just climb down!"

"Promise you'll catch me if I fall, okay?" Matthew squeaks.

"No, Matthew," Gil continues the path of sarcasm. "I'm just going to let you bust your ass on the grass."

Matt recoils his neck into his shoulders and begins backing up into his bedroom again until the Prussian halts him, "I was joking! C'mere, Birdie! Before Alfred comes out here!"

The corners of Matthew's mouth forms an askew frown as he cautiously slides to the trellis. His sneakered feet embed between the design decoration, descending the exterior until he slips up. The Canadian's foot misses a peg and the rest of his body pays for it as he takes the short plunge from the house to the ground. His hands cover his face as he lands upon the unexpectedly soft ground, and he opens his violet eyes in shock. Matthew stretches out his legs to flip to his other side, his fragile body supported by his hands and knees. He realizes that he's straddled the red eyed adolescent and sways back on his bottom.

"S-Sorry," Mattie apologizes.

Gil laughs, "No worries! C'mon," he offers his hand as he rises to his feet. "Let's go."

* * *

Matthew grins with a passion as he bares his upper teeth, emitting, "What in God's name are you doing?"

Gilbert looks up at him from the concrete parking lot bumper and scowls, "I know this will work, it's just…" Gilbert trails off as he configures the object in hand.

"Why're you having trouble lighting it on fire? And why are we setting it off at this house?" Matthew turns to face the house across the street in question.

"Because," Gilbert lazily argues, striking the faulty match a few more times.

Mattie folds his arms and glares down at the albino threateningly, "Gilbert?"

Gilbert stands up and hands the other boy three toilet rolls as he frowns at the one in his palms, "I can get it to work! Just give me a minute, _mother_."

"How am I your _mother?_"

"Because you're _nagging_ the living _shit_ out of me," Gil snaps the match in half and reaches in his back pocket for a fresh one.

"Then why did you ask me to come along?"

"Because you said you wanted to spend more _time_ with me," white haired exaggerates 'time' as he finally strikes the match in the right way. He flashes a goofy smile as he lights the inside if the cardboard roll, watching it flame for a split second before throwing at the house, shouting, _"__This __one is for taking all of my shit!"_

"What the hell?" Matthew cocks his head.

Gilbert takes another roll from Blondie and lights it, as well. _"This one's for __never __showing up to my marching band rehearsals sophomore year!"_

Matthew observes as the first toilet paper roll bursts into a huge ball of smoke and he scolds, "Gil! What the hell are you thinking! You're acting like a lunatic!"

Gil ignites another and violently tosses it, _"And remember the times you __lied __to me? Because I do!"_

"Gil! You're scaring me!" Matthew cries. "Why are we here?"

The Prussian snatches the last roll and tosses it farther than the others, _"And how you left me for that __fucking __prick,__that hates my fucking __guts!__"_

Matt studies how the cardboard rolls set off like bombs as Gilbert takes off for his bike at the opposite end of the parking lot. Matthew remains stationary and the other calls, "Come on, Birdie!"

"Nuh uh," Matthew refuses to cooperate and crosses his arms.

"What are you talking about!" Gilbert stresses. "The cops are going to be here any minute if you don't haul ass!"

"I want you to apologize to whoever that person is!" Matthew demands, repositioning his feet to a commanding stance. "You shouldn't have set their house on fire!"

"It's not fire!" Gilbert defends, walking back from the motorcycle. "They were smoke bombs! Hurry, before she comes out here!"

Mattie huffs, "No!"

"_Matthew!"_

Matthew unfolds his arms for a moment as he coughs into his elbows, due to the rising smoke. Gilbert's eyes widen as he recalls and runs the rest of the way up to him, throwing him over his shoulder in escort. Matt doesn't struggle as Gilbert seats him on the back of the chopper and hops on, making their getaway.

* * *

Gilbert plops onto the grass and falls on his back, resting the back of his head in his palms and gazing stupidly at the stars. Matthew unfastens his helmet and places on the seat of the bike and follows the teen.

"Come sit with me!" Gilbert requests. Matt stands idly above him and lays his brows flat. Gil rest his head on his shoulder and asks, "What is it?"

"I'm not letting my beautiful hair touch the ground," Matthew explains. "That's where dirt lives."

Red eye scoffs, "You're just like Francis."

Matthew ignores him and lowers to the ground, laying sideways from the German and resting his head on the other boy's stomach. "Better."

Gil rolls his eyes as he winces, "Whatever."

"So, why'd you bring me here, old man?" softie insults.

Gil sarcastically argues, "What? Can't two guys just hang out under the stars?"

Matthew flips his head to his left to look up at him as Gilbert looks down at him. He cracks, "Okay, I couldn't think of any other place to go, but I didn't want you to go home yet."

"Needy baby, greedy baby," Matthew refocuses his attention up at the nighttime sky.

"What time do you think your parents are going to come back?" Gil redirects the attention off of himself.

Matthew ponders for a moment and responds, "Probably around twelve or twelve thirty."

"What time would you want me to take you back?"

Doll face lifts his hips and pulls out his cell phone from his back pocket to check the current time. "Well, it's already 11:37, and Alfred might not have found out yet, so I don't care when."

"What's the deal with your brother?" Gilbert picks up on. "He's kinda been up your ass lately, hasn't he?"

"He's just overprotective," Matthew explains. "I couldn't tell you what _exactly_ is wrong with him, seeing as there are so many things to list."

The two boys chuckle at the absent American and Gilbert whines, "But why is he being so mean to me?"

"That's beyond me, Gil," Matthew lies to keep the peace. "Why? What's he done to you?"

"He's been ignoring me and giving me the stink eye every time we make eye contact," he childishly pouts. "He used to like me, what's his deal?"

"Maybe Arthur didn't wanna hit it tonight and he isn't too happy about it," Mattie wildly hypothesizes about his brother as Gil roars.

"_Jesus fucking Mary! _He can be such a slut!"

Matthew sits up slightly by planting his elbows into the earth as he turns his head to the adolescent, "Did I tell you how he even met Arthur? The actual story?"

Gilbert mimics his body language and follows up, "How?"

"He and Arthur had a friends-with-benefits thing in the tenth grade, but I guess he decided he couldn't get enough, because then they started going out last year." The corners of Gilbert's mouth drag into a mischievous grin as he eyes the Canadian. Matthew squints and raises a brow, "What are you looking at?"

"Is there a chance Alfred's smuttiness is _hereditary?_" Gil purrs. Matthew retracts his arms back onto his stomach and plops back down on the German, causing him to cower and cry, "You little punk."

The eighteen year old smiles at his accomplishment and folds his hands over his abdomen while adjusting his head to a more comfortable position on the other boy. Matthew taps his Converse as he lets his eyelids blanket his rare eyes, only to fly open again when a large masculine hand cups his glasses. Softie clings both hands to whitey's forearm, questioning, "What do you think you're doing, eh?"

Matthew senses the hand's match conquer his bifocals and succeed in slipping them off his face as Gilbert's voice jokingly hushes, "_Shhh_, let it happen."

Matt sits up, abandoning his glasses with Gilbert, and interrogates, "Why?"

"Wow, you look like..." Gilbert's mouth slits open in awe.

"Like shit?" Matt suggests, clawing a hand at the other for the return of his glasses.

"Like morning."

"What does that even mean_?"_ Matthew exaggerates.

"Like you did this morning, but," Gil adds in detail, "like a new kind of morning. One that isn't so crappy, one I'd like to see more often."

"Pssh, _trust_ me," Matthew snatches his glasses back and slides them back onto his face. "_This_ isn't a face you would want to wake up to every morning."

Gilbert glances over at the sweetheart and smiles halfway, "Maybe you're wrong."

Matthew rolls his eyes and criss crosses his legs to pretend to sulk. Gilbert chuckles nervously in attempt to make amends, "You know I was kidding, right?"

"Well, I don't know," Matt flicks his wrist dramatically, "I _am_ a pretty attractive person."

Gilbert shakes his head and respires, "You're a piece of work."

"You mean a piece of _art?_"

Gil grabs the boy by the arm and flops down on back, proclaiming, "Shut up and lay back down with me."

Matthew lands on the bare grass and jumps up instantly right after, wailing, "Watch the hair!"

"Whatever," Gilbert sneers. He lays his arm across the grass and beckons, "Just lay your head on my arm, then, princess."

Matthew folds his arms and sticks his bottom lip out, and plops strategically onto the unsuspecting German. Gilbert gasps and mirrors Mattie's facial expression out of mockery. "You're a prick, Matthew."

"Really? No one ever says that to me," Matthew slides his head onto Gilbert's shoulder to a more comfortable position.

"Why not?" red eye inquires. "Surely people have noticed your chronic bitchiness."

"Because most people think I'm nice."

The Prussian lowers his head on top of the other's and furthers questioning, "Why? Do you act different around other people?"

"Nope," he yawns. "Just the same." Gilbert mumbles confirmation and Matthew continues, "And I know what you're doing. What was with that whole smoke bomb thing?"

"I was getting back at someone," he makes clear.

Matthew interrogates, "Who?"

"Elizabeth," he growls. "I just found out that she was cheating on me the last time we were seeing each other."

"With who?"

"Roderich, that rich, snobby kid," Gilbert scowls.

"But Lizzy seems like a good person, why would she do something like that?" Mattie looks up at Gil, shifting his head slightly.

"Let's just say _she's_ done some bad things and _I've_ done some bad things," he postpones. "We just didn't treat each other nicely, and I didn't feel like we were lovers."

Satisfied with his answer, Matthew gazes back up at the sky and continues the conversation from there. "I've never had problems with any of my exes."

"Really?" the German sputters. "You mean to tell me you've never had problems with that commie Russian?"

"Don't talk about him like that," Matthew jabs the boy in the ribcage playfully, "and yes."

"After witnessing that incident in the hallway, I beg to differ."

"How so?"

"Uh, _hello!_" Gilbert's laugh is that to broken shards of glass. "He totally pushed you on the floor for the others to step on you!"

"Well," Matt ponders, "considering how I treated him, I suppose he has a right to."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I wasn't very nice to him while we were dating. We just weren't compatible."

A moment of silence followed by Gilbert awkwardly adjusting his shoulder with the unwilling Canadian still resting upon it. "What happened?"

"Well, after we, uh," he glances up at whitey, "_you know."_

He coughs dryly, "_Ja_, continue."

"Well, I guess he couldn't handle seeing me after that, because we got into an argument and he hit me."

The Prussian halts in breathing as he shouts, "_What! _Are you kidding me!"

"He slapped me across the face," Mattie reveals in a casual tone of speak.

"Did you do anything?" Gilbert keeps informed.

Blondie purses his lips and laughs, "I guess you don't _really_ know me, _do_ you, Beilschmidt?"

He jokingly pushes the boy slightly off his arm, "Just tell me!"

"I punched him in the mouth right after that."

Gilbert gapes, "Woah, where did you find the rage in that sweet little body of yours?"

"Matthew Williams doesn't take anyone's bullshit," he sasses. The pair cackle like couple of crackheads and ramble on continuously.

The boys remain silent for a few moments time, Matthew beginning to feel the effects of fatigue set in as he closed his eyelids for quite some time, not exposing them to the same shade of azure skies.

* * *

"Hey, Birdie," Gilbert shakes the boy to awakening. Matt rubs his eyes for a seemingly clearer vision and slowly sits upright. "Want to go home?"

"W-What time is it?" the softball whispers.

Gilbert pulls his phone from his back pocket and answers, "1:49."

Matthew jumps up and mumbles, "_Shit! _My parents are probably back already!"

Gilbert tosses his bike helmet at the boy, Matthew barely catching it, and demands, "Let's go, then."

Throughout the ride home, fatigue overcomes him, making it increasingly harder to keep his eyes open. He takes short naps on Gilbert's back, the cool leather of his biker jacket reminds him of familiar things, things to dream of.

* * *

Matthew reaches the second floor bedroom window before he waved goodbye to his friend, and climbs into bed. He pulls the blankets over his head and doesn't bother to change into pajamas, either. Sluggishly removing his glasses and placing them on the empty part of the bed beside him, Matthew's eyes close as soon as soon as they meet the cool pillow, due to the window being open for several hours. He lets his final thoughts run wild until fatigue conquers his state of being.

Alfred shuffles his feet and peers into his brother's room for the millionth time that night. Relieved to find Matthew actually in there this time, he sighs and places a hand over his heart. He whispers to himself, "Matthew, what are you getting yourself into?"


	6. Chapter 6

Matthew pulls the hood of the jacket over his ears and pouts, "Man, now I kinda don't wanna give it back to him."

He snuggles his ears and neck between the jacket hood, and a smile of satisfaction influences his flat lips. He brings the excess fabric to his face and takes a big breath, exhaling, "I don't even like Assassin's Creed."

"Hey, Mattie!" his mother calls from downstairs.

Matthew rushes to the bannister and responds, "Yeah?"

"C'mon, we're gonna be late if you don't hurry up!"

Blondie runs back to his bedroom to pull on his crimson high tops and stuff his wallet in his back pocket. He begins for bail to the steps until he pauses midway, and pats all of his pockets.

"_Shit_, my phone," he recalls, ascending the staircase once again.

After he recollects himself, he meets up with his mother in the car. Strapping himself into the vehicle, Mrs. Williams starts the ignition and rolls out of the driveway, onto the mildly open road. Keeping her eyes on traffic, she says, eerily, "So, aboot Friday."

Matthew feels a shot of pure panic rush through his insides as she brings up the subject of a few days ago. He nervously asks, "What aboot it?"

"I feel like we need to talk more. After I yelled at you, you didn't come out for the rest of the night," she explains, overly calming Matthew. "I'm sorry, it's just, I'm concerned for you."

"What for?" he tries immensely to cover up.

"Honestly," she sucks her teeth. "Alfred told me that this Gilbert guy's kinda shady."

Matt, enraged, asks, "What did he say?"

"Well, I know for a fact that the kid's been in holding, at least a few times. But Alfie told me that he always gets in trouble at school."

"And? So what? Who care what Al says?"

"He's just looking out for you, sweetie," she reassures as she makes a turn at an intersection. "Maybe he doesn't want you to get in trouble or something."

"Alfred's too nosey for his own good," Mattie insults.

His mother argues, "You know how he is. I'm not going to be overprotective, like him, I'll just be slightly concerned."

"Okay, ma."

* * *

Matthew climbs back into the vehicle as the appointment ended and pulls out his cell phone, and discovers a new message.

_So, what's shakin?_

He rolls his eyes and taps the text box.

_Dr app. What's with you?_

A few moments of peace as the car starts until his phone vibrates again.

_Nothing, but I'm really bored, tho._

_So why are you bothering me?_

_Damn, a guy can't have friends nowadays, can he?_

"Is that the weird kid?" Matthew's mother asks as she notices her son's preoccupation.

"Yeah," Mattie sighs, staring at his home screen wallpaper. "I have to admit, he's kinda a loser." The device buzzes once again and he slides to his messaging thread.

_Wish we could chill today. I'm feeling kinda lonely :(_

_Stay lonely, my friend._

_Stfu_

"So, why do you two hang out?" she interrupts. Matthew shrugs and she elaborates, "Why did you even start talking to him if he's a loser?"

"Well, it's kind of complicated," Mattie starts. "He was in detention so much that the teachers got tired of working with him. So, they asked me to, instead."

"Oh, I see," the feminine Matthew comprehends. "But do you think he's gotten in less trouble? Do you actually like spending time with him?"

"Yeah, and he hasn't lately," Matthew justifies. "Because, whenever he's in detention, _I_ have to be there to watch him for a little while." The pair sustain a silence as Matthew's phone goes off.

_Wait, what did you go to the dr for?_

Matthew frustratedly replies, not wanting to repeat himself on such a sensitive topic.

_We've been over this._

_Go over it again._

"So, what _is_ that boy?" she brings blondie back to reality. "He has a really thick accent, judging from the last time I talked to him."

"I-I think he's German," Matthew answers feebly. "But I don't really know his background or anything." His mother gives an understanding grunt as the sweetheart's phone goes off.

_Well..._

_Well what?_

_What did they say?_

"What're you two talking aboot?" his mother leans over jokingly as Mattie snatches his phone away.

"_Jesus_, ma!' he exclaims. Matt returns to his cell and replies. "Eyes on the road!"

_I'll call and tell you later, k?_

"Are you sure that isn't your _girlfriend_ you're talking to?" his mom calls out.

Matthew blushes and fumbles, "Ma! W-Why did you ask that?!"

"Well," she shrugs, "You're a senior, going to graduate and go into the real world. Just wondering if you've found someone to share that with yet or not."

"I _haven't_, mother," he stresses. The thought of Gilbert and Irina cross his mind simultaneously and he covers up, "It's complicated."

"Sorry, but your brother isn't telling me aboot _his_ girlfriend, so, I thought I'd ask you aboot _yours_."

_Shit_. Matthew felt his heart sink as he recalls the incident with his brother the beginning of their junior year.

"_Hey, Mattie?"_ Alfred asked with a sullen expression scrawled across his face. Matthew gave a directory grunt from the kitchen island and he continued, "_We're brothers, right?"_

"_Sure,"_ Matthew lazily agreed as he kept his eyes on his computer screen.

"_And I can trust you with anything, right?"_ Alfred shuffled his feet on the kitchen tiled floor, his head tilted down at them.

Matthew paused for a moment and questioned, "_What's going on, Al?"_

"_I wanna tell you something,"_ he revealed. "_But you have to promise me that you won't tell mom and dad, no matter what."_

Matt shifted his chair to face his brother head on and agreed, "_Okay. What's bugging you?"_

Alfred drew a large breath of air and held his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth on his heels. "_You promise?"_

"_Yes!"_ Matthew chuckled. "_What is it?"_

"_I'm gay."_

The Canadian widened his eyes, taken aback. "_Oh, I see."_

Alfred approached Matthew and raised his hand to his shoulder, worrying, "_But ya hafta swear on your life you won't tell mom or dad! They'll lose their fucking heads!"_

Matthew sighed, "_Okay, okay! But do you mind telling me when you've decided that you're gay?"_

"_Uh, there's kinda a long story behind that,"_ Alfred rubbed the back of his neck.

Matt patted a stool adjacent to his and invited, "_Park it, then."_

After he sat, Alfred began pouring the contents of his hearts to his brother. "_I kinda had this 'deal', you could say, with one of my friends. He came out to me and, seeing it as my only option, so did I."_

"_What do you mean by, 'deal'?"_

He cringed his nose and argued, "_Do I really have to explain?"_

Mattie laughed, "_I'm just messing with you! Continue!"_

"_Okay,"_ Alfred retained his emotional state. "_You know I've been gone, like, every weekend for a while, right?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_You have a pretty good idea what I've been doing."_ he sighed. "_You know, 'spending time' together."_

"_Alright," _Matt changed the topic. "_Who was it?"_

"_Don't you mean who _is _it?" _Alfred surprised Matthew.

"_What do you mean?"_

Al turned his head slightly to obscure his face, "_I started going out with him last month."_

"_Who is it, then?"_

"_You know the British boy?"_ Alfred patted the back of his neck again to avoid direct confrontation.

"_Arthur Kirkland?"_ Matt guessed.

"_Yeah, he's the one."_

Matthew sarcastically marvelled, "_Huh. Who'da thought that Kirkland was queer. And for _you_, no less."_

Alfred reached his arms over and around his sibling's neck, "_Aw, thanks so much for understanding me!"_

"_What're brothers for, I guess,"_ Matthew embraced him back.

Matt's mind's brought back to the real world when his mother parked the car, leaving him in the passenger seat. He hustles out to the house and up to his bedroom to make the phone call he promised Gilbert.

"Hey, Gil?" Matthew starts.

"_Hey, man!"_ the German voices. "_Where have you been?"_

"Something exciting happened today!" Matt falls onto his bed and maneuvers his body to rest his feet on the wall above his headboard.

"_Oh, really?"_ Gilbert plays along. "_Out with it, then!"_

"Okay, so I was at the amnesia specialist today," Mattie starts, stretching his neck back for a single breath to tell his story. "And I remember something!"

"_Oh, the same doctor you told me was stupid, and did nothing to help?" _Gil teases.

"At least _pretend_ like you care."

"_Gee, that's so awesome! What do you remember?"_

"I remember how the accident went," he reveals with a smile of satisfaction inscribed in his face.

The other end delays with a response until Gil returns moments later, "_How did it happened?"_

"Well, to start, I actually had really good vision as a child," Matthew recalls. "But, I was riding a bike and chasing after Alfred, until he crossed the street. I tried to follow him, but didn't make it enough time and the car hit me."

"_How did you hit your head?"_ Gilbert becomes, to Matthew, absorbed into the conversation.

"They hit me from the front and my forehead slammed into hood of the car. I guess it had enough force to throw me off onto the road, where I split the back of my head open. But guess what else?"

"_What?"_

"The doctors told me that when I hit the back of my head, it actually made my vision worse. I damaged my ocular nerves, so that's why my eyesight went to shit. And guess what _else?_"

"_What else?"_

"They told me that if I had another blow to the same spot, I'd probably go _blind!_" Matthew laughs lightheartedly. "Total bull, am I right?"

Gilbert's line became unresponsive until his accent breaks through, "_Tut mir leid, but why do you sound so happy?"_

"Well," he stutters. "It's cool I'm able to remember something from _that_ long ago, eh?"

"_I guess so," _Gil agrees, nonetheless sounding unsatisfied with his answer. "_Listen, guess who called me this morning."_

Matthew grew curious as he places his fingers on his bottom lip, "Who?"

"_The school."_

Matthew sucks his teeth and shames, "Beilschmidt, so help me God, if you're in trouble again—"

"_Nein, nein!"_ he discards. "_They told me that I'm off my suspension for a little while! Good for ole' Gillie, isn't it?"_

"Yeah, good for _you_, anyway," cutie breathes a sigh of relief.

"_You'd better watch that mouth of yours."_

The pair laughs it off and carry on, "Oh, and guess what?"

"_What?"_

"The doctor also took me off my antidepressants," Matthew slides his feet down the wall and on top of the headboard as he sticks out his bottom lip in false sulking. "It's only for about a week, just to see if I can do without them. But if I do well, that's one less pill to take."

"_Well, that's good, I guess."_

"Yeah, but that means my family will have to watch me like a hawk," he explains. "You know, in case something bad happens."

"_You know the only bad thing that will happen is if you miss a new episode of Supernatural," _Gilbert insults.

"Mattie!" his mother beckons from downstairs. Matthew stands properly to his feet and peers over the bannister for the second time today. "What're you doing?"

"On the phone!" he answers, the German still on the other line.

"Be a dear and make yourself useful," she demands. "Would you help me with the dishes?"

"But, ma!" Matthew whines. "I said I'm on the phone!"

"And I said I want you to do the dishes, but we both can't get what we want, now can we?"

Matthew rolls his eyes and returns to his waiting friend. "Sorry, I gotta go do chores."

"_Okay. Hey, ask your mother if she would let you come over."_

Blondie marvels, his pianist fingers hardly gripping the phone, "Wow, really?"

"_Ja, text me later, okay?"_

Matt agrees as they hang up and he walks downstairs. Here, his mom offers the kitchen sink and a sponge, and he gets to work.

"So, would now be a bad time to ask for something?" Matthew asks warily.

"Depends," his mother argues. "If it's another Supernatural poster, then no."

"You're no fun," Mattie sticks out his lip as he cleans a plate in a pouty manner. "No, but Gilbert asked me if I could come over soon and I want you to say yes."

She lifts a suspicious eyebrow, "Why should I?"

"We have, a school project to finish," Matthew lies.

Mama Matthew glowers at her son and judges, "Are you lying?"

"Nope," he fibs again, smitten for revealance.

"How're you gonna get there?" she begins to comply.

"Don't worry," Matthew reassures. "I'll get him to pick me up."

She goes back to drying the dishes, "I guess it's fine. Just as long as you don't get in trouble." Matt internally jumps for hoops, but his mom comes back, "Although, I don't believe that project story."

* * *

"Gil, what're you doing?" Matthew asserts, his cell phone lodged between his ear and his petite shoulder as he bounces across his bedroom.

"_Playing video games,"_ Gilbert snaps from the other line, swordplay sound effects slashing in the background. "_What is it? I'm a little busy, here."_

"Hey, watch your mouth!" Matthew jokingly scolds after being caught by surprise, collecting his things for departure. "Got your panties in a wad?"

"_Why are you calling? Did she_—"

"Mom said yes," he reveals, running his thumb over his other fingernails in a haughty fashion. "Drive the car this time, the bike would scare her."

* * *

"Mattie! There's a strange boy at the door that wants to see you!"

"Be there in a second!" Matthew darts from his bedroom and flies downstairs. He takes the door from his mother and offers, "I got it, ma. See ya later!"

He leaves his property with the foreigner and hops into the car. The Canadian fastens his seat buckle and angles his head towards the German, "You miss me _this_ soon?"

"_You_ miss me," Gilbert contradicts as he starts the ignition.

"_You_ miss _me_," Matthew stresses playfully. Gil wriggles his eyebrows like a curvy woman and softie smacks him in the arm. "You jerk!"

"But you _do_ like me, don't you?" Gilbert settles his facial expressions.

Matthew curves his upper lip and laughs, "Sure, Gil."

"I'm being serious," Gilbert snorts. Mattie glances over to see the alien's overly content aspect as he continues, "Do you like me?"

"Yeah, I guess so," dollface estimates, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. "What's it to you?"

"Just wanted to make sure. But I thought we were more than friends," he reveals, blood red eyes locked on the road.

Matthew rests his head in his palm and scrolls through his Tumblr dashboard, "And by that you mean…?"

"_Best_ friends?"

Matthew contemplated, "Uh, okay."

"Wait, why the hell do I need approval?" Gilbert darts his eyes over to Matthew for a moment of revealance.

"_Because,"_ Mattie fishes for an excuse in his spare seconds of silence, "Irina would feel _very_ jealous if you were my best friend."

Gilbert heaves the steering wheel as he rides the turn and interrogates, "Are you and the girl really that close?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," Mattie concludes. "We've been friends ever since I came to highschool. And she's been there for most of my ups and downs."

"Oh, okay," he concludes as he parks the vehicle as the other boy wonders over the albino's home. Despite its modern characteristics, it radiated a sense of cozy belonging. His feet swing from the car floor and set into the doughy landscape as their owner's eyes gaze at house the German approaches. Gilbert jabs the key in the lock and casually cracks the door open, and turns around to check up on his vacant minded friend. "Coming?"

Matthew doesn't respond, but runs up to the front porch to meet up with him. The pair immigrate into the Beilschmidt living room, where Gil yells, "_Mutter! Wo bist du!"_

Matthew's eyebrow flinches as he shudders, "_Huh?"_

He smacks the taller boy on the back and reassures, "Nothing, Birdie."

"What are you yelling for, Gilbert!" a woman, presumably his mother, calls out.

"_Ich habe_ _Matthew!" _he screams back.

"_Wer!"_ she screeches back, likewise.

"You _know_ who I'm talking about!" He pauses and turns to Mattie. "Gimme a minute." Gil races up the staircase and lashes out his mother out in Germanic tongues, intimidating the living hell out of Matthew. He stands patiently with his hands held behind his back and rocking on the heels of his feet, awaiting the arrival of his buddy. Finally, Gilbert comes at the foot of the stairs with a middle aged woman, sporting the same ruby eye color as her son.

"_Mutter,"_ Gilbert starts, "_dies ist Matthew, ja?"_

She grunts in comprehension and holds out her hand, "_Hallo, Matthew."_

Matt felt his arm go limp as the woman's lobster claw grip tighten. He winces as Gilbert's hand grazes his shoulder and the rest of his muscular body travels beside him. "This is the guy I told you about. He's the one that puts up with me in school, remember?"

"Oh, right," his mother agrees, walking towards the kitchen. "Well, just don't get in any trouble. Lord knows I've got my hands full, as it is."

"_Danke, Mutter!_" Gil grabs the Canadian by the wrist and trudges him halfway across the house. When they arrive to his bedroom, he tosses the boy onto the bed and slams the door behind him. Gilbert zooms to the television set and grabs a remote controller, starting the game up, and reserving a seat beside Matthew on the edge of the mattress. "So, what's going on?"

Mattie makes himself comfortable by lying upside down on his back, and spreading his limbs across the bed, his left arm lying across Beilschmidt's lap. "Nothing much. But my family's been really clingy, lately."

"Preach it, sister," he casually comments, eyes facing the television screen. "Tell me of your troubles."

"Well," Matthew sighs to recollect his thoughts. "Alfred's been so far up my ass, that I bet he could tell me what I ate for lunch last week."

"Sure, but when isn't he?" Gilbert jumps on the joke.

"Good point." Williams shrugs. "But I'm surprised ma let us hang out today."

"Well, didn't you say that your health is getting better?" Gil brings up.

"Yeah?"

"Maybe, because you're getting better, she thinks you can handle yourself."

Matthew ponders and complies, "Yeah, I see where you're coming from. I hope so, I've never been able to anything without someone constantly watching over me."

Red eye angrily presses buttons on the PlayStation controller and curses, "_Fuck the Templars!" _

"Are you even listening to me?" Matthew rolls onto his stomach and props his upper body with his elbows.

"_Tut mir lied, Liebling,"_ he apologizes lazily. "I'm only trying to fight off these fiends."

"They're not harming _me_," Matthew teases, toying the blanket with his feet. "What else do you have to defend?"

Gilbert scoffs half rhetorically, "Good point."

* * *

"Hey, say my name, Gil," Matthew requests.

"Matthew Williams," Gilbert pronunciates, his accent virtually nonexistent.

"No, not like that," Matt concurs. He sits up on his legs and tries to look Gilbert in his preoccupied eyes. "Say my name in that brilliant accent of yours."

"Now you're just being ridiculous," his thumbs fly off the controller buttons as he makes his snide remark.

"Just do it," Matt demands, bringing his thin eyebrows to a point.

Gilbert exhales, each breath clinging to his windpipe and, his sight on the TV, repeats, "_Mazzew Villiams."_

Matthew felt a wave of exuberance charge through him at the sound. He keeps noted in the back of his mind for another time. "You're somethin' special, Gillie."

Whitey climaxes in his game play while defending, "You know I can't help the way I talk. I would think that you of all people would know, since you can't say, 'about' the right way."

Matthew cringes his reddened nose up at him in defeat and murmurs, "I can't help that."

"Right, so don't be a hypocrite," he laughs.

Matthew flops onto the bed again and sighs, "Well, I'm so freakin' bored! I have nothing else to do but to tease you!"

"That isn't my problem," he disdains.

"Yes it is," Blondie contradicts. "If you don't do something with me, I'll go home."

Gilbert huffs and ceases his game play, walking up to his television set and powering it down. He walks back and sits beside Matthew, and asks, "What would you like to do, then?"

Mattie glances out the window off from the bed and asks, "It's kinda nice out, today. Can we go outside?"

"I'm cool with that."

Gilbert shoves himself from the edge of the mattress and exits the room, Matthew hesitantly follows. He sticks out his upper lip in a state of confusion, but continues walking behind the German, anyways. Matthew wonders where he's being taken, but disdains the worry at the thought of being alongside Gilbert, at least not being alone.

* * *

Matthew and Gilbert stride through the astounding crowd, hand in hand in fear of losing one another. Gil makes an uncomfortable grunting noise, catching Mattie's attention.

"What was that?" Matthew interrogates, they, leaving the parking lot and heading down the sidewalk.

"There is just so many _people _here," he growls, craning his strained neck around the sea of passerby. "It's starting to piss me off."

They took a few more steps in silence before Matt comes back with, "But I thought you were _always_ pissed."

Gilbert shifts to a shade of 'Tickle Me Pink', "Shut up, canuck."

"You're just jealous you can't think of a better comeback," Mattie sasses, winking.

Their feet journey on the sandpaper sidewalk for a little longer and begin happily puttering upon it. Remaining hand in hand, Matthew turns to ask the foreigner, "Earlier, were you talking to your mother in German?"

"No, not at all," he snaps back as fast as a whip. "I actually defected from North Korea and I've spoken ching-chong all this time."

"Can you say something for me?" Matthew disregards his asshole attitude. Gilbert glances at him with genuine surprise, his teeth snagged on his lips.

"You actually _want_ me to? I mean, you like it?"

"Yeah," Matthew confirms. "It sounds pretty cool."

Gilbert glances around and back at him a few times, and verifies, "_Seriously?"_

"_Yes!"_ he validates in a breathy giggle.

"Okay, like what?" They take a few more steps for Matthew to ponder upon it.

"Anything."

"Alright." He introduces, "_Hallo, mein Name ist Gilbert."_ Matthew raises his feminine eyebrows and Gil asks, "Do you know what I'm saying?"

"Hello, my name is Gilbert?" he guesses. Gilbert nods his head and he ecstatically urges, "Say something else!"

"_Ich spreche Deutsch," _he rolls off his tongue.

"I…" Matthew struggles to translate.

"What am I speaking in?" Gil hints.

"German?" he asks, unsure. His violet eyes light up and adds, "I speak German!"

"_Sehr gut,"_ he approves with a head bob.

Mattie grabs Gilbert's muscular hand closer to him and exclaims, "Do it again!"

"Uh," he furrows his eyebrows as he contemplates. "_Ich mag dich."_

"I, uh," he stutters. "_Shit_, gimme a minute, I can get it."

Gil smiles indigenously and teases, "Figure it out for yourself, because I'm not telling this time!"

"I didn't wanna know, anyway," Mattie pouts in an immature manner. Gil glances over at him and puffs out his cheeks in haughtiness. Doll face laughs, "Why're ya such a loveable asshole?"

"What can I say? I _am_ a pretty nice guy," he shrugs.

Matthew and Gilbert walk in various distances from each other over natural obstacles, their laced fingers seeming to be the only thing keeping them together. After some meaningless wandering, softie speaks up, "Where are we going, exactly?"

"Not sure," Gil glances around the area. "Just some place we can spend time together, or something." Matt nods his groomed blond mop and red eye suddenly asks, "Hey, wait a minute! Don't you speak French?"

"Yes?"

"Well, it's only fair if you say something for _me_," Gilbert bargains. "Since I did for _you_."

"Uh," sweetie contemplates. "_N'importe quoi, mon rayon de soleil."_

Gil stares back with an expression equivalent to a child amazed by a simple feat such as pulling a jackass' finger, and he farting afterward. "What does that mean!"

"Not telling," Matthew raised an available finger to his curved lips.

They waltz unknowingly around town, Matthew enjoying this short time with the red eyed teen. Only shortly after does he realize he'd been neglecting his stomach. Gilbert notices and offers, "Why don't we go? I've got beer and pancakes back at my house."

"Pancakes sound nice," Matthew disregards.

* * *

"Oh come _on_, Gilbert!" Matthew rushes over to his aid, grabbing the spatula and conquering the bowl. "How can you possibly mess up mixing? It's, like, the easiest part!"

"Hey, I tried my best! Get off my back!" whitey raises his hands in innocence.

Mattie huffs and directs the other teen, "Just go make sure the pancakes don't burn, you big dumbass."

Gilbert mumbles something incoherent and strides over to the stove top. Matthew rolls his violet eyes as he proceeds to clean up the batter on the counter after his German friend. Moments of silence pass by until they're broken by a strong accent, "So, you said earlier, when we were walking around town, that the commie bastard used to say things for you in Russian."

"Yeah, so what?" Mattie didn't bother turning his head to agree.

"_Nice_ things?" Gil suggests, as if he didn't know.

Matthew slows his mixing and confirms, "Yeah. Why?"

"_Ich habe eine Frage," _he says foreign nothings. He turns his blond head perplexed and Gilbert continues, "_Magst du mich?" _

The Canadian stares blankly, "That sounds like a question."

"_Es ist."_

"Uh, yeah, sure," Matt complies, going back to his task at hand. "Whatever you say, Gil."

"_Entweder ja oder nein," _the foreigner adds to the strange interrogation. "_Welches ist es?"_

Matthew gapes his mouth to a slit and shakes his head slowly, "I, I don't know. Try asking in English."

Gil pouts and jerks back to the stove, "Nevermind, Mattie."

Matthew glances suspiciously at him. "'Kay, Gillie."

* * *

"It's been awhile since you've actually been in English class with me," Matthew smiles like his ditzy inner blond would.

Gilbert acknowledges his praise by stretching out his legs and collapsing his folded hands on the desk, "Isn't it awesome! But not as awesome as _me!_"

Doll face's mouth stretches to the apples of his cheeks and his eyelids blanket his violet gems. The teacher struts into the classroom insync with the late bell and begins, "Alright, class. Today, we're gonna have a few kids from another class to come in and finish some classwork. So we're not going to be doing much of anything."

The red eyed one leans back with his hands behind his head and exhales, "_Das gut, _I didn't feel like doing work today, anyway!"

"With the exception of you, Mr. Beilschmidt," the instructor adds. Gilbert throws himself a pity party by folding his arms childishly just as a small group of students stride through the door. "Oh, here they are now! Just take a seat anywhere, guys."

Matthew spares his attention and spends it on the German on his side, until a familiar voice beckons him. "Hey there, Mattie."

The Canadian's shoulders immediately flinch as he kinks his neck back to look up at his stifling tall ex boyfriend. "Oh, hi, Ivan."

"May I sit next to you?" he asks.

Gilbert reaches over Matthew slightly in protection and defends, "Like _hell_ you're going to—"

"Thanks, Mattie," Ivan takes a desk from the row beside them and pushes it tightly against the blond's. Gil huffs and seats his bottom back in his own chair, but slams his desk alongside Blondie's, as well. Matthew finds himself in the middle of a batshit foreigner sandwich, almost unable to find a way out. He turns his head towards the commie, and then the albino, observing Gilbert to be red in the face and Ivan as calm and concentrated as ever.

"Alright, Beilschmidt," the middle aged teacher approaches the Prussian. "Here's the work you've missed." She plops down an absurdly thick pile of papers, making Gilbert wince.

Once he was certain she had left, red eye asks, "Birdie, you have to help me!"

Matthew shrugs, "Not my problem you keep getting in trouble."

"Oh, come _on! _Please!" he pleads, his devilishly crimson eyes somehow managing to caul over with angel's innocence.

He rolled his haughty royal purple eyes, "Give me one good reason, Gil."

"You're supposed to help me with these things!" Gilbert widened his and patted on the teen's arm folded arm. "I seriously need your help! Does it look like _I_ know what to do?"

He loosens his body language and sighs, "Fine, what exactly do you need help with?"

Gilbert lights up as he slides the first worksheet from the pile and presents it to Matthew. "Okay, so what have you guys been doing?"

"Uh, poetry, mostly," Matthew recalls. "Like Edgar Allan Poe and—"

"The perv that married his teenage cousin?" Gilbert interrupts, a willingness to learn drawn on his face.

Matthew settles to a blank and annoyed expression as he answers, "_Yes_, Gil." Gilbert smiles triumphantly as cutie pie continues, "Okay, so what're you confused aboot?"

"I don't know what they're talking about. What's a 'House of Usher'?" Matthew pulls a casual face palm and Gilbert panics, "What! Is it something important?"

"You kinda need to read it in order to fill out the paper, _darling_," Matthew strives for sympathetic, but ends up sounding asinine.

Gilbert inflates his blushing cheeks and snatches the paper back, "Whatever, I can figure it out myself."

Just before he was going to taunt the failure of a student a little more, Matthew feels a tap on the shoulder. He turns to his left and discovers Ivan, pointing to his assignment and asking, "Hey, Mattie, do you think you could help me with this question?"

"Yeah, sure, Ivan," Matt faces his back to Gilbert to avert his undivided attention to the other student.

Suddenly, a large hand clamps down on his shoulder and the German accent dictates, "Yeah, I don't think so."

Matthew confronts his friend, brushing his hand away and rubbing his fragile appendage, "What the hell's your problem! Why did you do that!

"I'm just taking precautions, that's all," Gil lazily provides, glaring over at a clueless Ivan.

The commie raises his eyebrows as Mattie leans his body in, "What're you talking aboot?"

"Nothing, forget it," he disses. Matthew furrows his eyebrows and goes back to helping Ivan, concerns of Gilbert shoved to the back of his head.

* * *

"You acted like a real _jackass_ back there," Matthew pouts, folding his arms and stomping in the hallway alongside the guilty party.

Gilbert contends, "_Was? Ich mag ihn nicht!"_

Mattie jerks his head over to him and gives a dirty glance. Gil shrugs his shoulders and the adolescent sighs, "What am I going to do with you?"

"_Ich kenne nicht," _ he laughs, half grinning.

Mattie rules with a stern aspect, "I'm not talking to you until you speak English."

Suddenly, a female voice from an upcoming classroom calls, "Mattie!"

The violet eyed boy glances around, and Irina pops from out of the door. Matthew smiles and runs as fast as lightening up to her, "Hey, Irina!" Their hands intertwine and he slows down to match her speed. Matt jokes, "What's for dinner, honey?"

She giggles and raises her curled fingers, knuckles covered by her long sleeved school sweater, to her lips. Mattie wavers his eyebrows for an answer and Irina lifts a fist kiddingly, "A knuckle sandwich!"

Matthew laughs and applauds, "Gee, you're so creative." She pouts her full lips and he pats the top of her head, bantering, "Aw, you know I love you, babygirl!"

"Wait, Matthew!" Gilbert races back up to them, painting himself into their picture. "I'm speaking English now! Talk to me!"

"And are you going to apologize for how you acted towards Ivan in class?" Matthew keeps his head straight and haughty.

"What did he do to Ivy?" Irina interjects, Gilbert staring at their handlock with an expression of stern perplexity.

"He just acted like the jackass he is," Matthew reiterates and glowers at the teen in question from the corner of his eye. "Saying rude and racist things."

"You two broke up a while ago, and he was getting pretty 'friendly' back there. I'm sorry, but I don't like it!" Gilbert growls. Irina's blue eyes widen and Matt's eyebrows raise to a peak.

"What's he talking about?" she whispers, the threesome's footsteps becoming slower to a trudge.

"Uh, I don't think I told you that," the Canadian tries to cover up, secretly cursing the German for bringing up the topic of his past lovers. He was going to have to have a long talk with him later. "I went out with Ivan last year."

The light blonde haired girl remains silent for process, but replies, "Oh, okay. But you told me that you 'didn't swing that way', when we were talking about—"

"_Shh!" _he frantically hushes, recalling who they were discussing at that time. "Yeah, I know!"

"So you tried to cover it up?" Irina questions. Matthew nods his head and she condoles, "Aw, Mattie! You didn't have to stay in the closet for me! You know I'll accept you for who you are!"

"Are you sayin' that I like dudes?" Matthew teases. Irina shakes her head and he continues, "I _do_ like girls, Ei!"

"Okay, I believe you!" she chuckles light heartedly. "I believe in whatever you believe in!"

After their episode, Gilbert makes his forgotten presence known once more, "Um, _I'm_ still here."

"That's nice, Gilbert," Matthew praises in an annoyed tone. Gil coils his fingertips into his palms and blinks his red rubies in shock. Blondie decides not to say anything else, but to turn to Irina, "Hey, what're you doing here this late? Don't you ride a bus?"

"Yeah, but mom's picking me up today," she explains. "Do you need a ride?"

Gilbert swiftly grabs Matthew's hand in ownership, and declines, "No thanks, but he's riding with me."

"But what if I want to ride with Ei and her mom?" softie brings up.

Gilbert purses his lips in frustration and let's go, "Whatever. I don't care."

They reach the parking lot and stand idly for silent stand offs pertaining to who was going to take the sweetie pie home. Gilbert grunts, "Well, where are you going, Matthew?"

He glances over at one of his best friends, and back over to his cool German friend. He concludes, "Can I at least go say hi to her mom?"

"_Ja,"_ Gilbert okays. "I'll go, too."

The three venture the car park in search for Irina's mother and approach a light tan minivan. The driver side window rolls down and reveals a middle aged woman. She elatedly says, "Irina! So you're _finally_ going out with Mattie!"

The alleged couple blush in embarrassment and the third wheel reddens in quiescent rage. "No, mom!" she releases Matt's hand. "He and his friend were just walking me out here!"

"Anyway," Matthew disregards. He shoves his torso into the open window and plants a friendly kiss on the side of her head. "I'll see you later, _mon_ _poupée_."

Ei's mom giggles like a middle school girl, "Bye, sweetie!"

He turns to Irina in a short embrace and kisses her on the head, muttering through her hair, "See you tomorrow, _mon_ _amour!_"

Irina chuckles, as well, and hops into her car, "See ya, Mattie!"

The van rolls out of the lot and leaves Matt and Gil alone again. They start for Ludwig's car, and the older boy takes notice, "You're really close to them, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he slides the car door off it's lock, "they're like family to me."

Gilbert nods his head and seats his bottom in the driver's seat. He waits by gawking at the boy whilst the other fastens his seatbelt, and settles his flower like irises over on him. "Why aren't you starting the car?"

"No reason," Gilbert straightens up, shaking his head, and turns the key into the ignition. "Let's go."

* * *

"Hey, Mattie!" Alfred beckons from the Beilschmidt living room. "Where you at!"

Blondie flutters his eyes open and comes face to face to a blurry, familiar ivory face. Matthew wakes up, retracting his arms off the other teenager's neck, and quickly lifts his torso from a comfortable restriction. His hands fumble for his glasses, upon sliding them onto the bridge of his nose, he glances down at the pale arm snaked around his midsection. Mattie glances about the room and recalls the events leading up to his predicament. He was lying on the made up floor with Gil before he fell asleep, as he observes from the other boy's reviving cuddling position. He begins to move off the blanket pile, but is halted, yet again.

"Birdie?" Gilbert mumbles from below. "What time is it?"

"Time to wake up. _Alfred's_ here," he stresses.

The albino shoots up, sputtering random things in German, and asks, "_Sohn von einem Weibchen. _Where is he?"

"He's downstairs," Matthew stands up and starts throwing blankets and pillows off the floor and back onto the bed.

The Prussian sleepily follows the blond racing around to collect his belongings for departure, and he childishly requests, "Can't you sleep over? I'm still sleepy."

Mattie yawns and shakes his head, "No, sorry. Alfie's gonna be mad that I didn't come home first."

Gil mumbles in understanding and strides to the door, "Whatever. Let's just go."

Before he leaves, Matthew remembers the main reason he stayed over, and retrieves the _Assassin's_ _Creed_ jacket from his bookbag. He places the neatly folded coat on the bottom of Gilbert's bed, and rushes to catch up with the white haired adolescent. Matt reaches the bottom of the staircase and gets glomped by his muscular brother.

"Hey, Mattie!" Alfred exclaims, his overly proportioned biceps crushing Matthew's air pipes. He retracts and bops his index finger on his brother's button nose. "Ya have fun on your play date with the prisoner?"

Matthew screws his face, the natural sunlight stinging his eyes, "Sure."

"Shut up, wanker," Arthur came from behind the wider adolescent, his arms crossed tightly. "I'm sure Matthew doesn't even want to hear your voice."

Alfred huffs and turns his back on his brother. He raises a condoling hand and hushes, "Look, can we discuss this elsewhere?"

"Why not?" the Brit growls through his clenched teeth. "If we're _lucky_, maybe I'll be _gone_ by then."

Alfred's face loosens from contentment to worry as Arthur storms out of the Prussian's household. Alfred hits the brakes and whips back to Matthew, and commands, "Get in the car, Mattie!" He races like a rocket in pursuit of his boyfriend, and yells, "Wait, Arthur! _C'mon_, just listen to me!"

Matthew and Gilbert remain idle, mouths gaped and eyes widened. "Hot damn."

"You've got that right." Gil looks up, "I didn't think they even had fights. You know, if the sex is good, and all."

"Yeah, neither did I," Matt continues to stare ahead. He snaps out of his trance and bends down, hugging the shorted boy, "Anyway, bye, Gillie!"

Gilbert reaches his arms around his waist and returns the favor, doting, "_Aww_, bye, Birdie!"

"Mattie! Car! _Now!_" his American brother screeches from outside. Matthew replies to the call and waves good riddance to his shady friend. He endures the risky drive home with Alfred and Arthur ignoring each other with a burning passion. Blondie just gazes out the window as an outlet. When they arrive home, Al and Matt get out of the vehicle, but Arthur stays. With a rude expression drawn on his face, Alfred says sternly, "Why aren't you getting out?"

"I'm waiting until you drive me home, _that's_ what," Kirkland overlaps his arms aggressively. Alfred gets closer to the passenger seat and grabs his appendage, and Arthur flips out. He retracts his limb, forces himself out of the car, and starts screaming like a madman.

"You _bastard!_" he sweaters his large eyebrows, pushing Alfred away. "What the _bloody_ hell's wrong with you!"

"Are you still talking about what happened earlier?" Alfred stresses. Arthur scoffs, and the ocean eyed teenager accepts it as an answer. "I thought you said you weren't mad!"

"I lie a lot!" he rages. "If you couldn't already tell!"

"Okay, I guess we can talk about this out here, then!" Alfred commences. "Let's just talk it out!"

"I don't want to talk to the likes of you!" Arthur snorts like a pissed off bull. He starts marching down the sidewalk, presumably heading home, but Matthew witnesses something he'd never imagine his brother doing. Alfred chases his lover and desists him by the stark hold of his grip. He can't believe it when it happened; his brother has always been passive, would never lay a hand on anyone. Arthur tries to break free as he demands, "Sod off, you asshole!"

"No! We're talking about this, and I'm not letting go until we do!" Arthur starts shuffling away, but cowlick maintains his proximity. Arthur swats his hands desperately, but Alfred snatches his wrists to prevent further injury.

They continue to fight like ill mannered children as Matthew rolls his eyes and goes inside. He leaves his shoes and book bag in the entrance mudroom, and staggers up the staircase. Just as he enters his bedroom, making himself comfortable, Mattie feels his rear end vibrate. Curiously, he pulls his cell phone from his back pocket and scrolls through his new messages.

_Yo, Birdie. Can I ask u something?_

Matthew acknowledges the text and replies.

_Sure. What is it?_

He waits a solid thirty seconds, but doesn't get an answer. Instead, he searches for his laptop and starts working on his screenplay. His deep hydrangeas attract to the computer screen as he busily taps the keyboard. Editing, and rewriting scenes become tiresome, sometimes pissing Matthew off to no end. After a few minutes, he hears his phone hum.

_Would you want to go see a movie sometime?_

Matthew stutters incomprehensible phrases at what he just read. He types back as fast as a whip a response.

_Sounds cool, I'm in. When?_

_How about Fr? We can pick a time and movie later this wk._

The Canadian tries to go back to writing, but finds it tedious. He grabs his stuffed toy, "Gilbird", and slams his face into it as he emits a high pitched shout of pent up glee. Matthew tucks his legs underneath himself and curls his toes to the point of cramping. Then, the door handle rattles and kisses the wall adjacent as Alfred came bursting through.

"Yo, Mattie!" he stumbles in the room, and rests on the edge of the bed. Arthur comes in after him, with an equally concerned aspect on his face. "Are you alright?"

"What do you mean? I'm fine." Mattie peers his eyes from beneath the stuffed toy.

"You were screaming," Arthur makes known. "Just wanted to check up on you, to make sure you were okay."

Alfred turns to him and ripostes, "No shit, did you come up with that all on your own?"

The Englishman radiates the most evil look Matthew had ever seen, and stomps out of the room. Alfred exhales and Matt asks, "What's up with you two?"

"Nothing," Al says with remorse. "It's just something stupid."

"Well, I wanna know!" Mattie laughs, loosening his brother up a bit.

He tucks his chin on his collarbone and raspily chuckles, "It's kinda embarrassing."

An ear piercing shattering comes from nearby, causing the brothers to turn their heads at one another. Matthew says, his tone oozing in suspense, "He's still in the house."

Alfred bolts from the bred and skids in the hallway, ranting to his boyfriend that probably broke more of Alfred's belongings unbeknownst to their moments separated. Matt rolls his eyes and takes another glance at his messaging thread.

"Hey, Gilbird," he speaks softly to the toy. "Why do you think Gil was acting so weird today?"

After not receiving the impossible reply, the fluffy haired teen flops to his stomach and reads through more of his messages with red eye. His chin protrudes over the chick's head and he continues, "And why would he text me that?"


	7. Chapter 7

Matthew sighs and reprimands, "Gilbert, what the hell were you doing back there?"

"I was waiting for you!" he attempts to defend, but doesn't fool the tough-as-nails Canadian. He folds his arms and taps his foot, as if he were interrogating a misbehaving child, and the German protrudes from the hallway corridor. "_What?"_

"I'm _waiting_," Matt hangs in the air.

After a heavy silence of intimidation and tension, Gilbert comes back, "I'm not lying, I _was_ waiting for you."

"And you simultaneously managed to look like a creeper whilst doing so?"

The Prussian scratches his head and mutters, "I don't speak English that well. But if you thought I was watching you, you're wrong!"

"Nevermind. C'mon, Gil," Mattie forfeits as he begins again for class.

Red eye catches up and starts with his gibberish again, "_Wohin gehen Sie?"_

He grits his fragile teeth, making his feminine jawline a tad more dominant. They stomp into the classroom and take their seats by their other foreign friends. Matthew situates himself at the end of the table beside Francis, Antonio already by the Frenchie, and Gilbert forced at the end of the line by the Spaniard.

"_Matthieu!_ I missed you _so_ much!" Francis dotes dramatically, coiling his arms around the boy in a 'casual" side hug.

Matthew brings his hands up to his hairy forearms and laughs, "We just saw each other a couple periods ago! Why do you miss me?"

"Because!" he exclaims, releasing him. Francis jokingly glares down the line at their shadiest member. "I don't know if I want you alone with that _ruffian_ over there."

Gilbert bares his molars and leans over on the table, "And tell me how you are any better, _pervert._"

He scoffs and the teacher tramps into the classroom, Matthew soaking in the strange enjoyment from the clickety-clack of her high heeled shoes on the linoleum floor.

"Alright, so today we're going to start a new project. And if you failed the last one," she glares daggers over at their group, "this one might help you bring your grade up."

Gilbert straightens up and wavers his hand like an unruly Kindergartener, "What's the project? May God save my soul!"

"I want you to start the drawing unit," she disregards Gilbert's childish behavior, "so we're going to draw portraits of our partners." Everyone in the class exchange looks as she provides further explanation, "You're going to pick a partner and draw a picture of them from the neck up. Is that a good enough description, Antonio?"

Having devastating past endeavours of miscommunications, one too many occasions including mishandling scissors, Antonio nods his head in comprehension. She continues talking, the row of trouble makers, plus Matthew, whispering to each other during, and she starts passing out materials. The instructor exits the classroom, leaving the hoard of students alone to wreak havoc as she attends some unknown task.

Once settled, Matthew picks up his pencil with determination, but slams his head on the paper in frustration. "I can't do this," he mumbles under his soft spoken breath.

Frannie takes notice and questions, "What's wrong?"

Mattie lifts himself back up and mopes, "I can't draw for shit."

"Why are you in art class, then?" Francis examines his array of artist's pencils, stringing his lips in concentration and amusement at his ditzy little friend.

"Because _you_ guys are in it," he pouts. "And I thought maybe I'd get better, but so far, it's not working out."

The Frenchman shakes his head in relation, and childishly strokes his beard as he contemplates, "Well, I'll work with you, so I can show you what to do. I mean, if that helps any."

He widens his irises, brushing his bangs out of his eyes, "Really? Are you serious?" Francis shakes his similarly styled hair and Matthew grabs his hand in gratitude, "Thank you so much!"

Out the corner of his eye, Matthew notices Gilbert standing menacingly behind Francis. He taps on the other boy's shoulder and demands, "Move it, Frenchie."

"Why the attitude?" he smirks triumphantly, Mattie giggling at him.

Gilbert grasps his pencil tighter and directs his glare down at Matthew. His hard-as-diamond eyes soften as he glances at the blond student, and takes a relaxing breath. He reiterates, "_I'm_ sitting here. Now, move it."

"Sorry, Gil," Matthew finally interjects. "Francis is gonna be my partner this time, so he can teach me how to draw."

His jaw drops to the floor and he defends, "But, I don't want to work with Annie!" Said teenager fires his emerald laser beams from a distance. "He's a dumbass!"

"Then you guys should get along fine," Matthew closes his eyes in an egotistical stance. After a few seconds, he cracks his eyes back open to focus on planning his art project. He turns to Francis and opens his mouth to ask something, but stops when he notices the teen's mischievous aspect. "What's that look on your face for—_maple hockey!_"

Gilbert had unexpectedly yanked Matthew's chair back, making that noise that made the fillings want to jump out of his teeth in the process. The softie tilts his head up at the German to ask, "W-What're you doing!"

"Hold still," Gil rests his supplies on the table and utilizes both of his hands to handle Blondie. With one hand underneath his legs and the other on his back, Gilbert successfully picks up the shuddering boy in nearly bridal style. He swiftly retrieves his seat, and places Mattie on his lap in exchange. "There, now you're _my_ partner!"

"Gilbert, what the _hell_ is _wrong_ with you!" Francis admonitions. "Why are you such a creep!"

Gilbert folds his arms over Matthew's lap and sneers, _"Because."_

Matt wrinkles the corners of his eyes as he skims over the other students' reactions. As Francis and Gilbert continue bickering, he feels the urge to up and leave more and more, as he can't stand the strange glances sent his way. The wheat blond senses the alien grip his navy blue school sweater in possessorship, as he claims, "_Nein_, _Hure!_ _Birdie_ _ist_ _mein Partner!_"

"That was pretty rude," Francis straightens his face. "But you know," he adapts a semi-mature charisma, "'Birdie' is actually a bit of a _putain_ himself, if you catch my drift."

Matthew immediately catches on to the French insult, unlike the Germanic, and defends, "What're you saying, eh?"

_"Nothing,"_ Frenchie disdains, Antonio chuckling in the background. "I just heard from Ivan some of the things you two used to do together. They sounded a little out of character for you."

His tender face settles to an unamused expression, "You're scared shitless by Ivan."

"So what? I can't talk to the man? What do you know that we have in common?" he feigns offense, obviously not cutting it.

"Whatever," Matthew crosses his arms over Gilbert's, and pouts. "I know you're lying. You don't know anything."

"Are you afraid of what I would say?" Francis wriggles his eyebrows as Mattie spits a haughty huff. "Would you be scared if I knew more things than you thought I knew?"

He turns his fluffy wheat head the opposite direction, "_No."_

"Then why don't I tell everybody when he used to pick sunflowers for you everyday until you went out with him." He disses, "And how you teased the poor fellow and waited forever to say yes."

Matthew felt Gil's fingers curl tighter on his jumper as he said this, and he turns his head to deny, "_Mange de la merde et meurs."_

"Just shut up and do your work!" Gilbert butts in and hisses.

Francis glances over at his partner and back around again to complain, "But, I don't want to work with Antonio! Just look at him!"

Antonio leans over, "And what's there to look at?"

The Frenchman scoffs, "_Tu es complètement débile."_

He smiles and flips the bird, "_Pudrete en el infierno."_

"Shut it, you two!" Gillie commands again. "You're _both_ idiots, fair?"

They pout, but sooner agree and commence their assignments. Francis does not let even a full minute fly by before he fires the blond with his asinine questioning.

"So, Matthew. Why did you go out with Ivy? He seems, like, the most intimidating guy on Earth." He crinkles his nose, "I could hardly stand talking to him without wetting my pants."

"Maybe he only appears that way to people who don't understand him," he retorts in the kind favor of his ex lover.

The Frenchman shudders, "He's so big and scary! How could you ever be attracted to that!"

"Again, he's not as mean as you guys make him sound."

"Or are we going to forget that little stunt in the hallway a while back?" Gilbert clears his throat to interrupt, his fists toying with the supplies on the table in front of him.

The senior sighs and reclaims, "Or at least, he _wasn't_ as mean."

"Better."

Antonio rests his elbow, apparent he wasn't going to even start the classwork, and asks his way into the conversation, "What are you talking about?"

"Well, do I have a story for you!" Gilbert answers for him. Matthew looks over his shoulder and gives a cold glare. "What?"

"Don't tell him."

He cuts his garnet stones and jests, "Or else?" Matt only stares indifferently as his response, and he takes as his final word. "Fine, I won't tell."

"Tell what?" Francis questions with a tinge of lustful intentions in his voice. "Are we already on inside jokes and secrets? Ooh, what's next!"

"What're you talking aboot?" Gil snickers and Mattie swings his heel into the boy's shin.

"Denial?" Frannie leans his head back to the light skinned and confirms, "I called it."

"Called what?" Blondie's face flusters with annoyance, and his fingertips burying into his palm.

"Dude, they totally don't know what we're talking about," Annie remarks. "And I had dibs on drunken sex."

Matthew and Gilbert shift to equally embarrassing pigments of crimson, as the other blond laughs, "Nothing! Just something between us!"

"Yeah," Gilbert spats, "_keep_ it between you two, then."

"Okay!" the troublemakers comply simultaneously. Francis brushes his fingers across his forehead to move his blond bangs out of his eyes, and asks, "Then let's talk about Ivan again."

"How about we don't?" the Prussian disagrees.

"Yeah, let's not," Matt accedes, recovering his pencil and placing his hand on the blank-as-a-polar-bear-in-an-snowstorm paper.

"So," the offenders twin each other by crossing their ankles and reposing their chins in their hands 'innocently'. Antonio begins quizzing, "Tell us more about what you found oh-so-irresistible about the school's _más grande_ _pinche verga?_"

Three of them spread a few slightly amused chuckles as the oblivious sweetheart is left to ask, "What does that mean?"

"Forget it," the albino reassures.

"But why did you even like the commie?" the Frenchie trails off. "It makes no sense to me."

Matthew pauses to give the question a consideration. "I think it was because I liked how kind he was, but protective at the same time."

"Oh, you like the _bad_ _boy_ type!" Francis squeals a little too loud for the receiver's taste.

Matthew could feel the eyes of all of his classmates turn on him for a second time as his careless friend made the assumption, the energy from their stares heating him in the cheeks.

"_Shh!"_ he hushes. "What are these people going to think of me if you just scream things like that!"

"Wait, so he's right?" the Spaniard sounds expecting. Mattie shakes his fluffy bleached mop and they roar. "Whoa, man! If you wanted a bad boy, you hit the G spot!"

"What specifically do you mean by 'bad boy'?" Francis makes quotations with his fingers. "Other than his attitude, I can't find anything else bad about him."

Mattie provides, "Well, he has a a piercing. And a tattoo, if any of that counts."

Everyone makes an 'o' with their mouths, and Antonio asks further, "What! What are they! _Where_ are they!"

"He has a smiley," dollface recalls. his fingernail snagged on his two front teeth for display.

Francis' jaw hits his lap, "What? How come I've never seen it!"

"And how come he can wear his, but I can't wear mine?" Gilbert inquires. "It's against the dress code to have piercings!"

"But you wear that ridiculous jacket almost everyday, and still don't give a damn," Antonio reminds.

"Wait, you have a piercing?" the ivory skinned boy asks.

The German points underneath his nostrils and claims, "Septum."

Matthew makes a 'huh' sound, and returns to the original question, "Uh, like I was saying. He doesn't smile using his teeth a lot, so I guess the teachers noticed it, yet."

"Sure, but back to the tattoo," Gil cuts. "What's that all about?"

Matthew traces his pointer finger across his chest to his shoulders and demonstrates, "It's a chest plate of a cross with wings, or something. I never paid much attention. He said he was going to get my name tattooed on his back someday, but…"

The group makes the realization by nodding their heads and mumbling. Mattie takes his hands back on the tabletop and finishes, "So, is that good enough for you guys?"

All members grumble and return to their dead end projects, and stay off the topic for the rest of the class. Though, throughout the rest of the period, Matthew can't help but to notice that Gilbert feels a tad warmer than he did at the beginning. Small talk comes up, mostly Francis complaining about how he didn't do his assignment in his Yearbook class.

"I was distracted, and I totally forgot about the picture-book-thingy!" he bats his dark blue eyes. "Jesus, what's the limey going to say!"

"Gilbert, you're making this impossible." Matthew complains, purposely ignoring the Frenchman as he sketches a lazy oval. "I can't draw your face if you're behind me."

The blond admits false offense and argues, "I feel like no one ever listens to me! Do you even know what Kirkland will do when he finds out I didn't do my part of the homework!"

"I have a feeling you'll be castrated," Antonio hints, working steadily on his assignment. Francis squints his eyes comically and mumbles incoherent rantings.

"Whatever, I guess you guys don't care if Arthur neuters me alive," he pouts. The group remains silent, and Francis sulks for the rest of the period.

* * *

"So, he brought you flowers?" Gilbert props his upper body on the table with his elbows, his head craned up.

Sitting upon the tabletop with his back against the umbrella pole, Matthew nods his head, and comes back, "And you were watching me in the hallway earlier. What's the big deal?"

Gil cooly raises a hand to the Canadian's kneecap and stresses, "For the last time, I said I wasn't watching you. What do I look like, a stalker?"

Matt folds his arms and turns his head, Gilbert shooting the most unpleasant expression. Coming from the building, he notices, a group of familiar faces slowly approaching and smiling wide.

"Yo, Matthew!" Christensen calls from the hoard of detention students. The blond waves as they approach the table, exchanging high fives and fist bumps before they seat themselves. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," Gilbert answers. "How's detention? Hot stuff still watching you guys?"

Matthew raises his shoeless foot and plants it on the German's face as a cruel and unusual punishment. He languidly grabs his ankle to move it away, and mutters, "Anti-possession socks."

"Damn straight," Matthew sneers, the Prussian repositioning his feet to his lap, instead.

Lukas breaks his silence and their quarreling by replying, "Anyway, yeah, she is. And she's still as annoying as fuck."

"Oh, c'mon, Lukie!" Christensen slaps the Scandinavian on the back and promotes, "Don't be such a downer!"

"Remove your arm," Lukas snarls. "Right now." Christensen's face becomes slightly panicked and he does as told.

"So, you guys still friends?" Carlos asks, shifting his eyes between Matthew and Gilbert. With both of Gil hands now raised to hold the sweetheart's knees, they shake their heads and the Cuban mutters, "Why would ya wanna be friends with _estúpido_ here, am I right Li?"

The silent Oriental boy shakes his head, and Gil jumps up to avert, "Shut your cock sucking hole, Carlos! I'm getting sick of your shit!"

"Then it's the _truth_ you're getting sick of," he sasses.

Matthew raises his eyebrows at the almost unbearable sight of Gilbert gradually becoming infuriated. He snorts at the prosecutor sitting at the other end of the table, "If Mattie wasn't sitting here, I would _fuck_ your ass up."

"Yeah, you would, _faggot_," Carlos adds gasoline to the fire.

Matthew observes that something seems to snap in his German friend as he is being insulted, akin to the tactless breaking of a thin toothpick. Gilbert suddenly springs from his seat and crawls across the table towards Carlos with a look of bad intentions inscribed on his face.

Matthew wraps his arms around him and screams, "Gil! What the hell are you doing! Sit back down!"

"_Ich bin nicht dein Spielzeug, du Hurensohn!"_ he curses as his fingers snake around Carlos' throat.

To Matthew, it was hard to determine when the two were either joking around, or they were actually fighting. But now was not one of those times. He grabs at red eye's wrists and, with determination and perseverance, Gil eventually releases his hold. Mattie scoots over to use his body as a shield to prevent further action from any parties, and Gilbert seems to calm down.

Whitey huffs and cringes his nose in defeat as Carlos and he hesitantly sit back down. To ensure their safety in the future, Matthew decides to slide off the table and onto his friend's lap, fitting that he felt strangely comfortable in close contiguity of him.

"Apologize to each other," he demands, glancing between Carlos and Gil. "Right now."

Red eye peers up at Matthew one last time, and turns to the Cuban, "Sorry."

Carlos exchanges the favor, and everyone appears to be at peace. Gilbert seems to relax tremendously by the contact of the softer boy, by how significantly his rock hard muscles eased the tension.

He laughs, "It's okay, Birdie! You can put all your weight on me!"

"This _is_ all of my weight," Matt corrects.

Gil widens his rubies and gawks, "Whoa! Are you serious!" The other boy shakes his head, and he proceeds, "Damn, you really _are_ like a bird!"

"_Thanks_, Gil."

"How much do you weigh?" he inquires.

Matthew puffs his carnation pink cheeks and responds, "One-fifteen, I think."

Everyone exchanges laughs and Gilbert adds, "I think Elizabeth weighed more than you!" He turns to the rest of their friends and smirks, "And you guys know how much of a fat ass she is!"

The faction chuckle humorously at his remark, all except Matthew. "And that's funny, how?"

"Hey, are you one of those rich white kids on the internet who starve themselves for attention? Is that why you don't weight much?" Lukas rudely inquires.

Matthew debunks his theory, and Christensen smacks the Norwegian on the back of his head for asking such a vile question.

Gilbert looks up and interrogates, "Why _are_ you so light?"

His eyes skit across the setting of people, and he concludes, "I'll tell you later."

"Hey, look at that!" the Dane points, simultaneously getting up to run to a patch of weeds in the grass nearby them. Chris bends over and starts feverishly picking dandelions with his clenched fists like a first grader. He returns to the group and showers Lukas in them, apologizing, "I'm sorry I hit you on the back of the head, darling! Please accept my offering!"

He swats the air and snarls, "Fuck off! I don't want your infested weeds!"

"Hey, I've seen people who make hats out of these, or something," Gilbert retrieves a stray flower that landed in front of Matthew. He cranes his neck back again, "Do you know what I'm talking aboot, eh?"

The offended Canadian wrinkles his nose and responds, _"Yes."_

"Do you know how to make them?" he sounds hopeful. Mattie nods and Gil retrieves a handful of weeds, exclaiming, "Well, here!"

Matthew accepts them and begins weaving their stems in a graceful manner. Wrapping one flower on top another, he maintains an ongoing pattern, the group of detainees ogling in utter awe at his feats. Li mumbles, "Holy shit. It's magic. _You're_ magic."

"No, I'm not," softie adjusts. "They're called flower crowns, and they aren't hard to make."

"I'm too rough," the Cuban denies, shooting his eyes down at his hands. "I can't do that."

Matthew compliments, "I'm sure you can, Carlos. Go get more and I'll show anyone who wants to how to make them."

Everyone scurries from their respective lunch area as dollface finishes fastening the last flower onto the accessory. Gilbert brings his hands to the side of Matthew's quads, and warns, "Hop off, I wanna make one."

"Hold on." Matthew turns around and adroitly places the completed crown down on the Prussian's light colored head. "I'll go get more, and I can show _you_ later."

He leaps off the flustered pupil and joins the other students, they, bombarding him with questions pertaining to the quantity and quality of dandelion. Once settled, he leads the entourage back to Gilbert and they get comfortable again.

"Alright, show us your magic, Canadian," Christensen jokes.

Said teen smiles and picks up two of the yellow plants. "Okay, so you start off with two and tie them like this." He demonstrates his teachings and the others follow. "Alright, so let's start with the weaving. It's almost like braiding, but not really."

Matthew slowly displays an explanation and the rest catch on. One by one, they braid more and more flowers onto their premature crowns. As their efforts progress, Christensen immaturely begins singing an old radio hit, "Iris", as a rhythmic work song, and the the clutter of focused teenagers pick up on it.

"_And I'd give up forever to touch you, 'cause I know that you feel me somehow,"_ Matthew and Chris sing together, the others a bit off key. "_You're the closest to Heaven that I'll ever be, and I don't wanna go home right now."_

"_And all I can taste is this moment," _Gilbert becomes in sync, as well, "_And all I can breathe is your life.'"_

"_And sooner or later it's over,'"_ everyone becomes one. "'_I just don't wanna miss you tonight.'"_

"_And I don't want the world to see me, 'cause I don't think that they'd understand,"_ Matthew giggles as the rest sing with fiery concentration. If only they would pay as much attention in class as Mattie observed here. "_When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am."_

"_I just want you to know who I am," _they finish the chorus off the bridge and tighten their last flowers together to conclude their productions.

Matthew adorns his head with his crown, as does Li and Carlos. Christensen and Lukas put theirs on each other, causing an inevitable linked arm effect, and everybody laughs at their reddened faces when they pull away.

"I don't know about you guys," Carlos begins, "but I feel as dainty as fuck."

"Same," the Chinese boy complies, folding his arms in self competence.

"I didn't know my hands could do such grace," Lukas admits, Chris bobs his head in agreeance.

"Hey, let's take a few selfies!" Gilbert fishes out his cell and starts snapping pictures of the lunchtime crowd. After everyone poses enough for the ambush of photos, the German taps the camera on front view and takes shots of him with the cutie on his lap. Afterwards, he pulls the phone into himself and claims, "_Ja_, those are going on Instagram."

Matthew smirks as he recruits his mobile, and steals an image of him smiling wildly with an arm over the albino in a relevant embrace. When finishes, he taps the little blue icon in his apps, and proclaims, "_That's_ going on Tumblr."

He cranes his neck back to Gilbert, and reveals with a smile, "My followers are dying to see what you look like."

"Really?" he acts amused. "Are they hipsters like you?"

"Speaking of hipsters," Li interrupts without even giving him the chance to answer, "did hipsters invent flower crowns?"

Matthew shakes his head as he posts the picture, and Gilbert rationalizes, "But, that would make so much sense."

"I don't think so," his eyes remain locked on his screen. The club shrugs off the suspicion, and proceeds with normal conversation.

Referring to how much they cherish their flower crowns, Matthew feels he, deep down, is appreciated for suggesting such an idea. A feeling he was foreign to for some time, until now.

"Hey, I don't know if it's because of Gil's drama or not," Christensen speaks up, "but this feels, like, the longest lunch period ever."

"I have to agree," Carlos consults, exchanging glances with everyone present.

"Actually, I think lunch _is_ over," Li hypothesizes after a couple more seconds of their recollection.

Matt pulls out his cell and finally notices the time, and he exclaims, "_Merde,_ he's right! We've missed a half an hour of class!"

"Let's get going, guys," Blondie adds, sliding off Gilbert's lap. He stops in his tracks when he discovers the trouble maker's arm still clinging to his waist. Mattie glances down at him, and Gil provides, "Wait, why don't we just stay here?"

"Are you out of your goddamn minds!" Matt freaks out. "We have to go!"

"But if the teachers haven't noticed us by now," Li, the only apparent thinker of the bunch, theorizes, "then we should be fine."

"_Ja_, come sit with us, Birdie!" white haired invites again. His purple eyes send a dirty look his way, and Gilbert shrugs, "What's the deal?"

"Fine, you guys can sit here. But I'm going back inside."

Matthew treks the grounds back up the the school, his back facing his friends in high hopes they'll follow. After a few more seconds of worrying, his plan works, and the troop marches uphill after him.

"_Jeez_, how do you always get your way?" Gillie complains. Mattie shrugs as he pushes through the double glass doors and travels the halls.

The club seems to trail off to classrooms like ripe leaves shaking off an old tree branch in autumn, the main pair being the only remaining members left when they near their last class of the day.

Matthew reaches his soft and youthful hand for the door handle, but quickly retracts it when the other boy's rough and chiseled one grabs the knob, instead. His outgoing personality sticks out like a sore thumb as he struts into the room and interrupts instruction.

The middle aged English teacher questions, "Where were you two? Class started thirty minutes ago."

"We started an organization to rebel against students requiring to speak English," Gilbert lies through his perfect, pearly teeth. "_So, fick mich lauf."_

She blinks her hooded eyes a few times in premeditated shock, and Matthew covers, "Uh, we were eating lunch outside and lost track of time."

"I believe you. Sit down and I guess I'll let you off with a warning this time." Matt prays in thanks as he shuffles over to his assigned seat by the loud mouth. "Oh, and boys?"

His soft heart skips a beat when the teacher calls on the pair, and she commands, "Take the flowers out of your hair. No hats in the building."

Mattie releases a breath of relief and does as instructed with Gilbert mirroring his actions.

* * *

"Hey, you should ride home with me today," Gilbert tries to convince, walking to the school parking lot in company with the hush adolescent. He winks playfully, "I can promise a good time, if it's what you're after."

Matthew ponders over the offer and accepts, "Okay."

Gil grins and pulls out his car keys just as a strong built figure comes up on them. The young man clamps his hand down on Mattie's shoulder and forbids, "Where d'ya think you're goin', bro?"

"What the hell, Alfred!" he shouts with a hand over his heart. "You scared the shit outta me!"

"Well, you're coming home with me, today," Alfred claims. He squints, "You have a lot of explaining to do."

"What do you mean?" Matthew quirks a brow at his overprotective brother. No explanation is provided, as the shorter sibling drags him from Gilbert over to his own vehicle. Once they climb in the car, Alfred blows up, "Matthew, what the hell did I tell you!"

"What?" he tries to retain innocence in a situation he anticipates he probably stands guilty.

The American scrolls through his phone and, after a few taps, presents, "Why don't you take a look at this?"

Matthew takes it from him and gapes his mouth in shock. Displayed on his brother's Instagram account, are the pictures taken by Gilbert just a couple short hours ago. He glances over, "I don't know what to say to that."

Alfred takes the mobile back and slides his finger down, showing him another example, "Got anything to say to _this?_"

Mattie widens his eyes at what his brother stumbles upon. He grabs ahold of the smartphone and scans through many others like it. All of the photos Gilbert took of them with their flower crowns, but most importantly, when he was sitting in his lap. Despite not wanting to appear vain, in the back of his mind, he actually really liked how photogenic he seemed around Gil in the pictures. Al clears his throat and Matthew jumps.

"Care to explain?" he interrogates. The fidgety boy returns the phone to its rightful owner, but he refuses, "Did you look at the comments?"

Matt retracts and pans his eyes down at the screen. He senses the blood rush to his cheeks as he reads the commentary.

In one photo, Matthew has one arm around the albino's neck, and flashing a peace sign with the other. All while Gilbert is winking like a pedophile and biting the end of his tongue, the caption reads: _Me and Birdie looking totally cute w/ our flower crowns!_

He refuges to another one of them sticking their tongues out like punks, with a comment reading: _Gettin' fly with my baby ;)_

"Have anything to say _now?_" Alfred demands, arms crossed over his inflamed chest.

_Not a good sign,_ he deduces. Mattie glances warily and responds, "I'm pretty sure those are just song lyrics, Al. Don't you know what 'Trap Queen' is?"

"Yeah, but I didn't think _you_ did." He finally starts the car and rolls out of the parking lot, making snide remarks. "And you can bet what I found on your Tumblr, as well."

"Well, I'm sorry I socialize," he stands in as he searches for a better excuse.

Alfred, unsatisfied, furrows his brows and retorts, "Look, I'm not joking around when I say steer clear of Gilbert. He's a pretty rough guy, too rough for someone like you."

Matthew starts to feel shame and a dusty wave of dejection pierce through his chest right before he connects the dots. He straightens up, "Hey, how did you even find my pictures, anyway? You don't even use your Tumblr."

Alfie stumbles over his words and Matt knows for certain he hit him where he's weak. "I-I was just checking some stuff, and I follow Gilbert on Insta. So, that stuff showed up, of course."

"What about Tumblr?" he strained for his voice to become dominant.

"When I saw Gil's pics, I knew you'd have somethin' on your dashboard."

Matthew shakes his head and disagrees, "I think there was something else that brought you to check Instagram. Or _somebody_ else, am I right?"

Al screws his face and denies, "I don't know what you're talkin' about."

"You were snooping through Arthur's social media," he comes out with it outright.

The metallic blond sputters, "But I had to! I know for a fact he's got somethin' goin' on with the sleazebag, and that's why he won't talk to me!"

"Wait, is _that_ what you're fighting over?" Matthew asks. Alfred bobs his head and he confirms, "You think Arthur's cheating on you with _Francis?_"

"Well, _obviously!_" he exasperates. "There's _no_ way he can be good friends with him _and_ decide not to talk to me at the same time! It's too coincidental!"

"Francis isn't that kind of guy!" he argues. "He knows you're dating Arthur! He wouldn't intentionally lay a hand on him!"

"I had to make sure I wasn't being used!"

"Alfred," Matthew patches up, "don't tell me you confronted him about your suspicions." He shakes his head again and the boy with the heart of gold recommends, "God, why didn't you do more research first! That would've been smarter!"

Alfie raises his shoulder to his earlobes, "I had all the proof I needed!"

"In what you just told me?"

"Yes!"

"_Mon Dieu,"_ Matt softly holds his head to wrap his brain around his brother's predicament. "Maybe _that's_ the reason he won't talk to you, since you accused him of something so _awful_."

"Nah, I know why he's acting like he is _now_," Alfred clarifies, an image of the angry Brit from the other day depicted in Matthew's head. "But a few weeks ago, he was acting kinda distant. Like, he'd stay after school and get rides home from Francis instead of from me."

Matthew widens his eyes and jerks his head, "Wait, did you say this happened a couple weeks ago?"

"Yeah, just about. Why?"

He releases a drawn out groan and makes known, "_Alfred…!_ Arthur and Francis are in have a class together!"

Al's face loosens with regret and surprise, "What! Are you shitting me? They were only doing _homework?_"

"_Dumbass,"_ he insults, holding the side of his face. Mattie turns back, "Wait, so you mean to tell me you had _no_ idea?"

"No, I didn't!" he admits. "Even when I told him he was cheating on me, he didn't even tell me the real reason! So I had _no_ idea! Aw, _shit!_" he honks the horn.

Matthew presses his back against the polyester seat and folds his arms sarcastically. "Well, at least _your_ problem's solved."

"Actually, not really," he reveals.

Softie observes the driver's rigid maneuvering of the steering wheel before staring directly at him and inquiring, "What else is there?"

"When I told him that, he started getting defensive and told—actually, more like _screamed_—that he hated me, and why. I mean," he motions his hands as he tells the story, "I'm used to him doing that. That's how he argues with, _everyone_. But there was one thing he said that really bothers me."

"And?" Matt becomes insanely absorbed in the gossiping, if that's what you'd call it.

"He says we have sex too much," Alfred unveils. Matthew covers his smirk and begins giggling, offending Alfred. "What the hell are you laughin' at?"

"_Damn_ _time_ someone said something!" his voice breaks under pressure. The sweetheart wipes the smile off his face and grunts sophisticatedly, "I'm being serious."

Alfred pulls into the family driveway and upon parking the car, he slams his head on the steering wheel, causing an unexpected honk to emit, "I know! I just thought that's what he wanted! _God_, I'm a terrible person!"

Matthew leans over and pats his bro on the back, "You're not a terrible person, but I can't speak on the behalf of you being a terrible boyfriend. But you can fix that!"

He lifts his midsection off the car and sniffles, "Really?"

"Yeah, now's a good a time as any. And I'll tell you how."

* * *

"C'mon, Gil, answer the damn phone," Matthew whispers as he paces his bedroom, biting his lip in anticipation. He grips his cell phone a little tighter when the other line finally picks up.

"_Hallo?"_

"Gil! It's me!" he introduces.

"_Oh, hey!"_ his voice becomes happier. He jumps straight to the point, "_What's wrong with Alfred? Is he angry at me?"_

"Yeah, actually," he concurs in a long breath.

Gil respires, "_For Christ's' sake, what's he mad about?"_

"He saw the pictures we took at lunch."

Silence comes from the opposite end, but is broken after a few seconds, "_Oh, right."_

All of a sudden, the realization hits Matthew on the head like a ton of bricks, "Hey, do you remember when you texted me aboot seeing a movie?"

"_Of course."_

"Well, what're we gonna see? When are we going?" he grins, exposing a straight band of upper teeth.

Gillie chuckles from the other end, "_Friday, the theater, eight o'clock. You, me, and the Avengers."_

"I'm down with that!" he agrees, elated. "Who else is going?"

"_I was, uh,"_ he stumbles on his words. "_Well, Annie has a date with Lovi, and Frannie is seeing Lisa then. So, I guess it would be just us. Unless it bothers you."_

"N-No, it's fine!" Matt stutters, slightly taken aback. "See you Friday. At the theater."

"_Eight o'clock!"_

"Eight o'clock!"

He hangs up the phone and replays the message in his head. Flopping onto his mattress, he stares indifferently at the poster of Castiel on ceiling. Had Gilbert, one of his best friends in the entire world, asked him out on a _date?_

"No, no he didn't," Mattie mutters in response to himself. Then again, he reasons within him the possibility. God only knows what he says to him when he babbles in German, not to mention he knows for a fact Francis has a yearbook meeting Friday, not a date with Lisa. Although he didn't know what Antonio was up to, judging how he lied about Francis, he didn't believe he had a date with Lovino. "No, he couldn't have."

* * *

"What? Why the hell not?" he debates.

Alfred shrugs his shoulders and differs, "Matthew, I said no."

"I didn't even ask for your permission, I only told you I'm going out Friday night. You can't keep me in." Alfred surveys him with disbelief in his eyes, and Matt knows it's all over. "I can still have friends, Al."

"You're staying in Friday," he sets in stone. "End of story."

Sweetie pie stretches his eyelids far back and reasons, "I'm not a child, I can watch myself just fine!"

"You're being a baby, Mattie," Alfie spins his eyes as his brother blows up.

"You're not the boss of me!"

"Well, judging by how careless you've been acting lately, I assumed the position was open," the American hunches his back over the kitchen island and sips his coffee.

"Fuck you, Jones!" Matt curses, constricting his fingers into a pair of fists.

Alfred meekly glimpses over and back around, grumbling into his mug, "Cut it out, I've got enough problems on my hands right now."

"You mean your boy toy dilemma?" he snidely retorts. This makes Alfred snap like a toothpick, as he slams his coffee cup down on the counter and stands up.

"I'm being serious!" he elaborates. He stiffens a hand and "I _know_ him! Something's gonna go wrong and you'll be the one to pay for it! Just fuckin' forget it! Forget _him!_"

"_Fine, I just won't ever enjoy myself! Are you happy, now!" _Matthew screams at him, in a rare tone of voice. Alfred lifts his brow in shock as the Canadian huffs up the staircase, and back to his room. He stomps like a four year old and finally gives up by sprawling across his mattress.

He blindly reaches for a pillow, but grabs his stuffed polar bear, instead. He transitions the toy under his face and lets out a long exaggerated howl of despair. "_Fuck you, Jones!"_

* * *

The next afternoon, Matthew throws his bag and slips off his shoes in the mudroom, as he dramatically staggers into the kitchen/living room area. He stumbles into the medicine cabinet and snatches the first bottle he reach. Clonazepam, his anxiety medication.

He unfastens the lid and slides the capsules closer to the rim, the bottle tilted in his cupped hand. Mattie hesitates, but dumps a handful of pills into his palm. More reconsiderations undergo and he's torn between two choices.

"If I take all of these, I won't be a problem to anyone any longer," Matthew fixes his focus on the drugs. "But, if I don't…"

He contemplates profoundly, and slaps a hand over his forehead. "What the fuck am I thinking! God, I'm so fucking stupid! Maybe I should just knock my ass out and be done with this!"

He sighs and returns the medicine to its bottle, and tosses it up in the cupboard. "_Fuck_ _it,_ I don't deserve to take any, then. Maybe I'll die faster."

Matthew stalks across the empty house and up to his room, all alone with his daunting thoughts. He tumbles onto his bed and lies with his limbs outstretched. Here, he falls asleep, desirous of nothing more than to sleep for eternity, and his eyes to never open to the light of day again.

* * *

"Matthew. Hey, Mattie," an almost alienated voice speaks out. Matthew endures the stinging of dried tears and premature waking that binded his eyelids closed, as he cracks them back open. His vision clears up and he discovers the voice that spoke to him was his father. The Canadian hurriedly collects himself and sits upright.

"Did you take your medication, pal?" Mr. Jones raises a hand to his son. Williams scooches away and his reaction seems evident to the middle aged man. "Guess not. C'mere, then."

He leads the offspring down to the kitchen and sorts through his Rx bottles. He presents to Matthew his pills, "Here."

Blondie accepts them without saying a word, and his father accuses, "See? This is why Alfred and the rest of us won't let you go out with your friends. Because of things like this. Do you know what would happen if you went out like this?"

Matthew releases a compressed squeak and bobs his head. Mr. Jones grunts and bids riddance, deserting the unstable teenager by the island. Still, Matt does not feel any remorse, knowing he isn't able to control his decisions, but is especially not conciliatory for his actions.

Yet something guilty lurks in the back of his mind; an unbearable feeling of dread akin to anticipating if the shot in the round premeditated to fire has the bullet, defining the game of Russian Roulette.

"S-Sorry," he whispers, grabbing a glass off the counter to swallow his medication. After, he teeters over to the living room, taking a seat on the empty couch and flipping through the channels until he got to the new episode of Supernatural.

* * *

_Hey, you didn't forget about me, did you? It's almost time for the Avengers!_

Matthew fishes his cell out of his hoodie pocket, and examines the message.

_Sorry, Al isn't letting me out 2nite._

A couple minutes stand still, and worries him. What if he isn't coming? What's he going to do, instead? And it's all Alfred's fault. Mattie tries to shake the blame game out of his head, but he can't help but to feel like his brother is nothing more than a mere roadblock of their friendship. Out of the blue, blondie's phone vibrates, causing him to jolt. He slides the lock and answers, "Hello?"

"_Hey! What's up, cutie pie?"_ a recognizable voice rings.

"Gil!" Matthew exclaims. "What're you calling for?"

"_We're seeing a movie, duh!"_

His spirits deflate like a balloon. "I already told you that Alfred won't let me go."

"_Well, you don't know Beilschmidt, then! Because I won't take no for an answer!"_

Mattie smirks, "Are you picking me up in secret, then?"

"_That's right!"_

An idea strikes a chord with him, "Hey, can you drive the car this time? I have a surprise for you."

Gilbert gasps, "_Really? What is it!"_

"You're going to have to wait until you get here. Now, hurry!"

"_I'll be there in a few minutes."_

They hang up and Matthew fills to the brim with glee. he combs through his room and recovers his favorite CD and his wallet for preparation. He ties his shoes on his feet and grabs his cell, rushing down to the kitchen to rummage through his medicine cabinet. Knowing his mother was at work, and his father has 'business matters' to attend to, he is carefree of the observation of his parents. His sibling, however, is a whole problem of its own. Matthew halts his searching to tiptoe over to the front window to see if Alfred's car was still park in their driveway.

"Huh, _weird_," he sighs a breath of alleviation as he discovers their driveway to be empty.

Sweetie pie leaps for joy over to the cupboard and retrieves a brand new inhaler with a metal canister. He grabs his key before locking up and situating himself on the front porch steps, awaiting the arrival of his friend.

A few minutes later, the navy blue vehicle pulls up to the front of the house, and the pale driver ambles up to him. Matt makes a break for it and spirals his arms around the surprised teenager's neck. Gilbert's hands hasten to his back, and he inquires, "What's this! Miss me much?"

Matthew pulls himself off of him, and senses his face and common sense drain like a dish washing sink. Before him is the albino teen wearing a black, slouchy beanie and a bull ring stud dangling from his septum, just as he promised earlier that week.

Gil catches on and paws at it, as he claims, "See? I told you I had one."

"Yeah, you did," he says slowly, still astonished by his transformation. Just hours before, he was in school uniform, and a little more decent looking. Now, he looks like the bad boy only found in the depths of Matthew's wildest dreams and reblogs.

He stands, stifled by dumbfoundedness, for a bit right when Gil wavers his hand for attention, "_Hallo!_ Earth to Matthew!"

Mattie shakes his head like a wet dog and returns, "Nothing! Here!"

Gilbert raises his brow in shock as he has two white objects shoved onto him. He stares suspiciously at them, and Matthew explains, "T-They're my asthma inhalers. One for the car, an-and one for your house." The lighter–than–ivory boy leans his head back in understanding, as Matt drones on. "Since we hang out a lot, I want you to keep a couple of those on you."

"So you don't have an," Gil pauses to ensure correct pronunciation, "'asthma attack'."

"Yeah, actually… _Shit_, just give me one of those!" Matt gives up trying to catch his breath from excitement and snatches an inhaler, shakes it quickly, and proceeds to use it. Gilbert gawks at him like a performer in a freak show, and does as Matthew demonstrates, inhaling the medication.

"Gil! Why did you do that!" he complains. "Those are prescription, and should only be used in emergencies!"

The Prussian wrinkles his face and sputters, "_You_ did it, and I only wanted to know what it was like." He squints at the container and sticks his tongue out, "It's pretty nasty."

"Yeah," the Eskimo rolls his eyes. "Because I use them for fun."

A couple seconds of awkward stand offs leads to Gilbert motioning his head to the car, and jogging to the driver's seat, himself. Once the two settle, the German starts the car and heads for the highway.

"So, do you want to get anything to eat first?" he asks. "We can go to Chipotle, or some place like that! Sound like fun?"

Matthew shudders and confirms, "I, I don't care. Wherever you want to go is fine with me. "

* * *

Gilbert's rose red eyes bore into Matthew's purple petunias, as he nonchalantly bites his lettuce. "I can't believe you," he sternly admits, the albino's stare goes right through the softie.

"Well, now you know, I guess," Matt tries to shy away. He knows the teen is kidding with him, but something about his rigid tone leaves an unsettling remark.

Gil proceeds to eat his meat loaded special, and Matthew trembles at the sight. He groans with his mouth full, "I don't think I can ever look at you the same, Birdie."

"What? That I'm a—" he starts before the Germanic boy hushes over the preluding the word, as if it was the worst curse word you could possibly say. Matthew sighs and crosses his arms, "Why does that bother you?"

"It's like you're not even the same person I met a month ago," he affirms. The Canadian puffs his cheeks as he exhales his stress.

"According to my mother, I've been like this since childhood." He shifts his glasses to adjust to the membrane of his nose, and continues, "It shouldn't alarm you."

A grunt leaks from Gilbert's lips as he appears to be psychoanalyzing the boy across the table. He takes a sip from his soda and maintains his gaze like stalker to stalkee, calming the recipient in the least.

"I'm not saying I'm disappointed in you, but…" Gil shrugs whilst he trails off, taking another sip for sheer distraction.

"Don't be an asshole, Gil," Matt berates, ignoring his naked salad and pressing his abdomen into the circular edge of the table. "I'm my own person, I can make my own decisions. And it's not even like I _chose_ to be like this."

His raises his shoulders exaggeratedly to conceal his difficulty with the argument. "It's weird to think that all this time you were a—"

"Vegetarian?" Matthew specifies with a stiff expression. Beilschmidt shivers as the term flies carelessly from the student's mouth, and he advocates, "There's nothing wrong with being a vege—oh, cut it out!"

"I can't help it," he provides, dramatically clenching his eyes shut, "It disturbs me."

"Don't be such a baby!" he criticizes. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with being a veg—"

Gilbert bends from across the table, shifting it out of place a bit, and sets a finger to his lips. "For the love of God, don't say that word!"

"Oh, don't be like that!" he cries. "You have to learn to be an accepting person!"

"Sorry, but I draw the line there."

The boys scoff at each other, and finish their meals. Neither one intentionally taking offense.

* * *

Matthew and Gilbert exit the theater, feeling especially disappointed. They head for the car, and the Northern American brings up, "I can't believe you."

"I'm sorry," Gil apologizes. "I meant the best."

"Yeah, but your intentions were what got us kicked out of the movie."

The albino gestures his hands and defends, "I thought it would be funny!"

"I really don't see how throwing candy at the screen and at other people would be remotely funny, Gillie" he scrunches his face as he recalls the embarrassing scenario.

"I didn't like what was happening in the movie, and you know those people behind us were being annoying!"

"Not as annoying as _you_." He rubs his temples and moans, "_God_, my anxiety is through the roof, and the worst part is they took me off the medication."

The 'Prussian' shudders and gives a quick glance, "I hate it when you talk like that. It scares the living shit out of me."

"Why?"

"Because I'm afraid that something is going to happen to you. I don't know, your medicines and stuff just give me the creeps."

Gil suspires as he glances at the nighttime sky, and Matt follows his doings. Star gazing seemed to always calm him down, since it reminded him of other times what the teen and him would do after outings. Star gazing reminded Matthew of what was more important to him.

"Hey, we don't need those theater jerks, anyway!" he interrupts cutie's daydreaming. "I've got something way more fun for you!"

"What?"

Gilbert takes off to the vehicle, snatching Matthew's wrist midway. He stumbles back to their lot and, surprisingly, the driver side door is offered to him. He shakes his head, "I… don't have a driver's license."

"So?" Gil brushes off.

"Well, because of my problems, I'm handicapped," he clarifies, as he gently taps the side of his head with his knuckles. "So, I never bothered to learn how to drive."

"Well, you're going to with me, because I'm going to teach you how!" he reveals, crimson eyes widened.

Matt smiles, "R-Really?"

He nods, and the softball hops into the vacant seat, his hands gripping the steering wheel. As Gilbert approaches the passenger side, Matthew carelessly jabs the key in the ignition.

"Okay, so what you are going to do is back her up," he directs.

Matt recalls how Alfred operated his car, and pulls the gear shifter back. He hits the pedal a little too hard and almost collides with another automobile in the car lot. Gilbert lets out an involuntary squeal, and he laughs.

"You're an even worse driver than me!" he exclaims. Matt inhales sharply at the remark.

"And you're a bad teacher!"

He shrugs, "Fair enough. Now what you want to do is steer the wheel like this."

His snow white hands cover Matthew's for demonstration, and his mind goes haywire. This touch somehow felt different from the others, like it's meaningful. Like there are feelings behind it's initiative.

"So, where do you want to go? Tell me, and I'll teach you how to get there."

"I, um," Matthew ponders upon possible contenders. "Do you want me to teach you how to make flower crowns? We can find a field or something."

Gilbert smiles, that septum piercing making him hotter than the sun on a summer day. "Yeah, let's go!"

* * *

_AN: I'm so sorry I'm late! I was writing ch.8 and halfway through, I decided to rewrite it in a single weekend. It's been nonstop editing and revising, but I accomplished what I intended to do. Writing accents became counterproductive and unnecessary. Tell me if you find any misspells and the next chapter should be up soon! _


	8. Chapter 8

Gilbert chuckles raspily, leading him and tightening his fingers into the sweetheart's fragile hand. Matthew smiles and only tries his best to keep up with the German's rough pace, strategically snaking his feet through the unkempt grass. He bounces his ruby slipper eyes about the field, and unties his fingers from Matthew's to plop on the ground below him. The other subsides and takes a spot beside him.

"So," Gilbert's tone straightens up. His voice breaks into a chuckle, "Are you going to show me those flower crowns, or what?"

Matt grins, taking back his hand, and rolls over to a patch of daisies adjacent to him. He retrieves a few handfuls and sits back down properly again to begin instruction.

"Okay, so take two to start off with," he instructs. Gilbert does as told and he nods, "And now we're gonna weave one at a time until we're finished."

Mattie demonstrates and Gil eventually catches on. After a few minutes of almost nothingness and silence, they finish their projects.

"Here," Matthew reaches over to the self proclaimed 'Prussian', and gently adorns the crown on him. He observes how the daisy petals matches the boy's hair almost perfectly. Gilbert smirks, and proceeds to do the same to the doe eyed boy. Matt's heart skips a beat and jumps out of his skin, a desire of belonging or wanting overcoming him. What is this strange feeling? Where is it coming from? Is it even real?

"Thanks, Gil," Matt pats his flower garment. "You did a nice job, it's really pretty."

"_Danke sehr,"_ he says in a low rumble. He exhales and grins affectionately, staring into Matthew's violet eyes, "_Du bist wie niemand anderes, du weißt das?"_

"What?" he laughs nervously, his thoughts too carried away to bother with worry.

Gilbert angles his head and cuts his eyes as an uncontrollable state of fascination overpowers him. He asks, "_Ich mag dich. Willst du mit mir ausgehen?"_

"Uh," cutie pie makes a quick look behind him for, hopefully, an applicable answer. "You're asking me a question, is that it?"

He furrows his brow and smirks haughtily just enough to make him look a little more handsome, "_Das ist unheimlich süß."_

"I–I'm not sure what you're saying to me."

As he continues to gawk, Matthew brushes it off and busies himself by making another accessory. He eventually speaks, "Anyway, thanks for taking me out tonight. I had a nice time." Gilbert grunts another foreign response, and he dare asks, "What are you saying when you speak German?"

He shrugs and finally responds properly, "That's for me to know, and for you to figure out."

Halfway satisfied with his reply, Matthew goes back to his nimble work. Then, his phone vibrates wildly from his back pocket. He answers the call, "Hello?"

"_Matthew?"_ a Russian accent beckons. "_Is that you?"_

"Ivan?" the boy makes sure, despite knowing for certain who it was. As soon as he said his name, Gilbert manically jerks his head around. Matt has never seen his facial expression change so quickly, especially to such a severe one. "Why are you calling? Is something wrong?"

"_Yes there's something wrong! I drove all the way to your house and you aren't here! Where are you?"_

"I'm…" he glances at his raging albino friend, "... out."

"_With who? Don't tell me you're with that hothead, Gilbert. You know he can't take care of you like I can."_

"What did you call for, exactly?" his tone strengthens.

There's a pause on the other line, and a long breath follows, "_I wanted to talk."_

"About?"

"_I wanted to know if you would give us a second chance."_

"But, when we broke up, I told you that I am never getting back together with you," Mattie reminds, his partner seething with rage. He does not even have a chance to look before Gilbert lunges at him and knocks him straight to the dirt. He cringes his nose, "Gil! What was that for, eh!"

"Give me the damn phone!" he growls as he snatches it anyway. He sits back down on the grass and spoke clearly to the caller, "What the hell are you calling for, Commie?" Matthew cannot clearly hear the phone conversation, even as he sits back up. Gilbert sews his brow, "Are you trying to pick a fight! I'll kick your ass!"

Matt's purple eyes widen and he approaches him, "Give me my phone back, Gil!" The hybrid sways further back with every attempt the blond makes to retrieve his belonging. He tugs on his arm, "Fess up, jerk!"

"Really now? And are you sure about that?" Gilbert scoffs sarcastically to the other line, completely ignoring the boy's cries. He snorts, "Whatever, I don't care! Don't ever call again if you know what's good for you!" Gil hangs up and tosses the phone back to its rightful owner, Matthew just able to catch it. "There, now you shouldn't have any more problems," he brushes off.

His fragile hands suddenly become very unstable, shaking as if he were an eighty year old man with a severe case of arthritis. Matt realizes he should return his mobile to his back pocket before the shaking has a chance to get worse. Gilbert, unbeknownst, takes a quick notice of his ailment.

"What's wrong with your hands?" he lazily points with his own. "You're shaking very badly."

Cutie pie shakes his head and denies, "I–It–It's nothing!"

"And why are you stuttering so much?" his tone grows with concern, like it's going out of style. "Is something wrong?"

He seals his eyes tight and hangs his head low, "Th–There's nothing wr–wrong with me."

Gilbert waits a moment to assess, but is still doubtful, "If you say so."

To regain a normal charisma, Matthew makes another attempt to continue making the daisy chain. He gives it his best try to weave the stems the best he can, but this dilemma is eating him up inside. The 'Prussian', again, can't let go of his change in attitude and trembling hands.

"Okay, something is definitely wrong," Gilbert repeats in a rare, soothing tone that Matthew remembers only spoken to him, and nobody else. He shakes his head and he swats at his arm, "Oh, come on! What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

Mattie tells the truth, shaking, nonetheless, "I just, I don't know how I'm going to get home! It's making me so nervous, I could just die!"

"What are you talking about? I could take you or, since you're really good at it, you could drive back! But only if you wanted to, of course!" Matthew's nervousness plainly seems to be rubbing off on Gilbert. Oh, God, how toxic.

"No, Ivan said he came by my house," he confides, much against his better judgement. "So unless I show up there, and give him what he wants, that means he's not going to leave for a little while."

Gilbert's mouth gapes and eyebrows raise, "Seriously? He just sits on your porch the entire time? That's the most insane thing I've ever heard!"

"Yeah, and I have to be home in a few hours, anyway, since I'm technically not even supposed to be out right now."

He rounds his lips as he begins to fully understand the situation, and nods reassuringly, "You could spend the night at my place."

"Bu–But my family is still going to kill me for not telling them," he rationalizes. "They're really harsh on me, you know that."

Gilbert jovially pats him on the back and suggests, "What they don't know won't kill them! I'm sure we can figure something out!"

Matthew smiles graciously. He could kill to be anywhere but at his house, at the moment. "Okay then! So, it's a sleepover!"

His voices hitches as air blew from his relaxed nostrils, "Right!"

* * *

Matthew glances at himself one more time before leaving the bathroom. Since they hadn't planned the night in advance, he's forced to wear Gilbert's clothing to sleep in. He examines the old, worn out Rammstein band t-shirt, and revels at the bottoms with a rubber duck pattern the German thought was oh–so–hilarious. He draws his face into a squint as he murmurs, "_What a fucking loser."_

He walks out into the hallway and back to Gilbert's bedroom, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, the other on the door handle. When he removes his limbs and opens the door wider, he catches eye of his friend wearing nothing but his boxers and his alabaster skin tone. But there is something else there, just above his right pex; a tattoo. Matthew's heart skips a beat or five at the very sight of it! A religious cross with a rosary hanging dramatically, dangling all the way down to his hipbone. It's not just dangerous, it's enticing. Though, instead of flustering like a normal person would upon noticing a peeping Tom, Gilbert proudly approaches him with arms wide open.

"Hello there, Birdie!" was all Gil could say before Matthew squeals and slams the door, making it secure by keeping his hands firmly on the knob. He tries to pull from the other side, but the blond opposes. After the battle of the doorknobs, the stronger of the two bursts with energy and the door flies open. Matt stumbles into his room and lands hard on his hands and knees. He glances upward as Gilbert hangs over his temporarily disabled body and bites his bottom lip, "You know, I bet that won't be the last time you'll be on your knees for me."

Gilbert offers a helping hand and Matthew closes his innocent eyes and demands, "Put some clothes on, jackass!"

Matthew overhears a chuckle reeking of grit and testosterone, "_Nein."_

He lightly stomps his feet in anticipation and whines, "C'mon, Gillie! You're a sick bastard!"

He tsks, "Whatever, hold on!" After he dresses, in an even older Rammstein band t-shirt and a pair of black boxers that made him look rather attractive, Matt safely opens his eyes once again. "Are you happy?"

His blond head nods, and Gilbert turns the light off to prepare for slumber. The pair simultaneously head for the bed, both with an end of the blanket in hand. Matthew blushes; the last time he consciously fell asleep with Gil was at that sleepover a while back, and that was with two other people. And the very last time he napped with him was when they went to his house to play video games and Alfred came to pick him up later, but that hardly counts, as he barely remembers even falling asleep. Gilbert brings him back into real life with his playful growl, "Where are _you_ going?"

"_I'm_ going to bed," Matthew smirks, ready to catch anything the albino can throw at him.

He stands on the edge of the mattress, balanced on his knees as he differs, "Tough shit, because _I'm_ sleeping here. _You_ can go on the floor."

Matt jumps on the bed and comes at him, giggling, "Fight me, then!"

He tries sitting or laying on Gilbert to debilitate any future action, but it is no match for his muscular advantage. As a backup plan, he grabs one of his pillows and swings it into the left side of his face. The white haired boy piggybacks off of Matthew's idea, and strikes him with another pillow, his glasses sent flying to the floor underneath the bed.

"You're gonna lose!" Matthew's hardly able to say due to his immense laughing.

Gillie contests with pillows in both hands this time, "No, _you're_ going to lose!"

He smacks him in the face with playful brute. "Never underestimate the power of the maple!"

The shorter teen clashs his hands with the blond's, their fingers interlocking, where they could combat with upper arm strength. Matthew, of course, loses by a long shot. His back meets the mattress with the German on top of him, though, he's too preoccupied with laughing to bother with concern. When he attempts to open his eyes, they provide little assistance as fatigue clouds his vision.

"I'm going to sleep right here, right now." Gilbert yawns and eventually plops down on his stomach on top of the Canadian, his head resting right above his diaphragm. Matthew takes after his friend and begins to feel tiredness set in, starting to lightly play with the other boy's hair on a whim. This very action seems to have set off a chain reaction, the bad boy's distinct scent of cologne and nicotine smacks Matthew right in the face. He lies there like that for a little bit, scared to lose his favorite position with his favorite guy.

"Hey, Gillie," he eventually asks in a hush–hush tone, and Gilbert grunts shortly after. "I wanna ask you something."

"Spit it out, then," he muffles.

Matthew angles his head down towards Gilbert, and his breath hitches in disbelief at his own question, "Do you think we'll still be friends? Like, after high school, and stuff?"

"What're you talking about?" his tone is gruff but approachable, nonetheless.

"I've been thinking about graduation, lately. Do you think we'll still talk?"

"I sure hope so," he yawns. "I really like you. You're so much more loyal than my other friends."

"Oh, Gillie!" His fingers clutch his hair lovingly as he coos, "You're just in a constant state of paranoia, aren't you? Your idiosyncrasies amuse me!"

Gilbert squeezes Matthew a little tighter and whines, "Shut up! You know I can't speak English all that well! Now you're just making fun of me!"

"I know, darling! I couldn't help myself! It's just too funny!"

Gil flips to lay on his arm closest to the blond and plants his forehead in his bicep, their legs mingle amongst each other. And for once in Matthew's life, he decides to let it all go, and finally sleep. Is this the best time of his life, the memory he will look back in to in future times of despair? Because it surely feels like it.

* * *

When Matthew wakes up, he reenacts his usual morning routine of sniffling his nose and fluttering his eyes open. He pauses for a moment as he scans the adolescent adjacent to him, sleeping soundly. A smile graces his features.

The Northern American flips to the other side of the mattress to search for wherever his glasses went the previous night. He bounces out of bed to retrieve them, having to pry Gilbert's dead arm off his waist. Yet, as he does, the white haired bastard keeps sleeping like he isn't aware. He rolls his bare purple eyes and slides his spectacles up the bridge of his nose.

The fragile younging ventures into the hallway and makes his way in the kitchen to prepare some coffee, another addition to his morning ritual. Matthew helps himself to the coffee maker, assuming that whoever wants some can be welcome to.

As he fixates the filter and adds the ground coffee and water, he hums to the Blink 182 song, "Stay Together For The Kids". That band is like his 'cover up', in a sense. His real taste in music is almost damn near embarrassing to reveal, even to his best friend. His brain cannot operate properly without an unhealthy dose of caffeine. Mattie reaches in the cabinets for two mugs, one black and the other with cream and sugar. As they're placed on the counter, he takes a long swig of his beverage before fetching the future owner of the second drink.

Then, a blue eyed man with messy light blond hair comes staggering into the room. He only notices Matthew as soon as he finishes yawning and rubbing his eyes. When he does, his brows come to an intrigued point. Ludwig turns his head and yells, strange dogs coming to the call, "_Gilbert! Ich brauche dich!"_

Matt has a feeling last night that he was not allowed to sleep over, but he did anyway. Damn his letter–opener–sharp intuition. At the moment, he finds that he can't speak, unable to explain himself. Shortly after the German bellowed, the Prussian enters the kitchen, running his fingers through his short, but somehow messy cut. The clinking of the canines' nails on the hardwood is the only natural distraction Matthew is left with.

"_Ja? Was passiert?"_ he yawns. Gil looks directly at the Canadian and changes his attitude and tongues. "Oh, good morning, Birdie! How did you sleep?"

He slings an arm around his shoulder and Matthew struggles to keep the contents of his mug steady. "Why are you up so early? I thought you weren't a morning person."

"It–it's eleven o'clock," he clarifies as he offers it to him. Gilbert chugs his cup as his younger brother rolls his eyes and slouches to another room, thankfully, taking the dogs with him.

He glints his crimson eyes down at his drink, "Hey, you're pretty good at this! If it were up to me, I'd have you make my coffee _every_ morning!" His eyes pan down at the cup once more, "When I'm in a retirement home, promise to be my nurse and make this for me until I die."

"In your dreams, old man," Matthew giggles as he takes a sip.

They sit in momentary silence as they drink, until Gil asks out of the blue, "Hey, do you think your family would mind if I stole you for another day?"

He squints, "What are you saying? Sound's pretty suspicious if you ask me."

The fair skinned boy stares into his cup, his long fingers tap the ceramic. "Luddy is going to Feliciano's house, and I have nobody to hang out with."

Dollface expresses his lighthearted agitation though a long, hard stare. "Fine, I guess I'll stay. But you better have something planned out for us to do."

* * *

Matthew's fingers fiddle with the helmet buckle as he watches his friend attend to the motorcycle. Gilbert revs the engine and, turning to the younger boy, slaps the seat. He beckons, "Okay, she's ready for you. Hop on!"

He shakes his head, "Are you crazy! I can barely drive the car! What makes you think I can handle this!"

The teen glances at the bike and back at the fragile boy. "What? I believe in you, you can do it!"

So this boy _is_ fucking insane. Who in their right mind would let someone like Matthew drive something as dangerous as a motorcycle? Apparently Gilbert would.

"Gil, sometimes faith can't help with certain things," Matthew shudders in his hightop sneakers. "Honestly, I can't drive. Please don't make me."

Gilbert's aspect softens like Jell-O as he nods. "Okay, but, do you still wanna ride?"

"Yeah," he takes a seat behind Gilbert and off they go into the bright Saturday afternoon.

The wind in his curly blond hair, the smell of the German fills his nostrils. Matthew holds him a little tighter, resting his cheek on his bony shoulder blade. And at that moment he realizes something he never thought of before: perhaps, speaking hypothetically, Gilbert is something much more than a friend. He may not be the most stable person or make the smartest decisions, but he has a pretty big heart, and that's just as admirable. And sure his bad attitude and 'everyone's a jackass but me' outlook on life can be done without, but that just makes him all the more likable, according to Matthew. So as he inhaled Gilbert's strange but alluring natural scent, the confused teen lets his thoughts run wild in hopes for clarity.

_What if I actually like him?_ Matthew wonders. _What if he actually likes me back? What if I actually have a chance with him? Or am I just young and in over my head?_

* * *

Gilbert sways Matthew's childlike hand back and forth as the boy turns his head to giggle, too giddy to care about staring passerby in the shopping mall. He hides his entire face as the teen pulls out his cell phone and activates Snapchat. Gil complains, "What's the big idea here, eh? I'm going out of my way to make you happy, all I want is a few pictures!"

Matthew drops his head on the German's shoulder, his eyes dilate like a puppy's as he speaks softly, "_Fight me about, old man."_

This gets a chuckle out of Gilbert, and he snaps a photo nonetheless. The caption reads: "_best day ever! ; )"_

Mattie sees a great opportunity and pulls out his phone, as well. Still on the teen's shoulder, he flashes his upper teeth as his pose. Gil lays his cheek atop his blond scalp and purses his lips at the camera, his arm finds its way around his feminine frame. Afterwards, Matthew takes back his cell and sets it in his lap to type a caption, Gilbert still looming over him.

"There!" he posts the selfie and presents it. It depicts the boys tired but ecstatic, represented by their messy hair and cheesy grins, titled: "_tfw you spend the entire day w/ the greatest cutie ever!"_

"Aw, are you talking about me?" Gilbert asks sarcastically. Mattie nods.

"Actually, I haven't posted much of anything on my Tumblr these days," he recalls. "I've been too busy hanging out with you, I've kinda just forgotten about it!"

"Leaving your followers just for me! That's loyalty if I've ever seen it!" he drones rhetorically. Once Mattie glances over to see his snarky intentions, he forcefully smacks the boy in the arm. Gilbert sits straights and begins chuckling.

"Shut up, jackass! I've just found better things to do than to waste my time on this website!" He takes a moment to recollect his thoughts and adds, "And as a matter of fact, I haven't been working on my screenplays lately, either."

"Now that you've mentioned it, you're right," he reconciles. "And by the way, don't think I've forgotten about your promise to me. I still want to read them, you know."

"Oh, right," Matthew flusters, wondering how he could have remembered something from what felt like so long ago. "I didn't think you'd still care, to be honest."

"Of course I do! You're going to name a character after me, aren't you?"

"W–what?" he laughs, cutting his eyes down at him.

"Yeah, you're going to name the leading character after me, right?" he confirms.

Matthew shakes his head and patronizes, "Sure, I'll name the biggest asshole of the play, 'Gilbert Beilschmidt'."

"Thank you, honey," Gilbert is not even fazed by this insult, but rather appeased. He clears his throat and asks, "But seriously, when are you going to let me read it? I don't know anybody who likes to write outside of school."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he coughs.

"I think it's kind of interesting," Gil shrugs. "And if _you_ wrote it, I _know_ it will be something good."

Coming from someone who hasn't even read a single one of his works, Matthew is lauded, nonetheless. He acknowledges, flustered, "Uh, thank you, Gilbert."

The German smiles, his cheeks puffed with pride, and comes back, "No problem, sweet thing!"

Matthew giggles at his flattery and reveals, "Okay then, I guess I'll show it to you the next time you come over, or something."

"You really mean it!" Gil asks in pure excitement. Matthew nods.

"But just so you know, you'd be the only person to ever see it," he reveals. "I've never showed it to anyone, not even Alfred."

"Why not? It can't be that bad, _you_ wrote it!" Gilbert compliments once again.

"Well, the thing is," he glances away for a distraction. "I used to write a lot more often in the past when I had a lot more problems. Now that I hang out with you and have a little more friends, I don't feel as bad anymore, so I guess I don't feel like I need to vent as much. Do you get what I'm saying?"

Gilbert slowly tilts his head and breathlessly says, "I get you completely." His breath hitches as he repositions himself on the bench. "Then I guess the next time you come over, I'll show you something, as well."

This entices Matthew and he perks his head in deep interest, "What is it?"

"That's for me to know and for you to find out," he conceals. "But I'll tell you what, kid. The next time you come to my house, and absolutely nobody is home, I can show you what exactly I am talking about."

With this, Mattie stores his cell phone in his jacket pocket and stands up, a palm outstretched waiting for Gilbert's. He invites, "Well, let's go."

"Wh–what?" Gil stutters, very abnormal for his character. _The confident, bad ass rebel is all tongue tied,_ Matthew thinks. _How cute!_

"Yeah! Let's go now! I wanna know what it is you're gonna show me!" Matthew closes his eyes for a brief second as he chuckles.

The ghost-like boy eventually takes the boy's hand after much reconciliation, and he feels as if his heart is playing hopscotch, it's jumping around so much. The car ride is nothing out of the ordinary, but Matthew can't stop wondering what it is Gilbert wants to show him. Perhaps a favorite object of his? Or maybe a secret?

When the boys re enter the Beilschmidt household, Gilbert takes Matthew roughly by the hand and briskly approach his bedroom. He turns around and shushes, "Close your eyes for a minute."

Matthew does as he's told and he hears the doorknob open soon after. Then, still holding onto his hand, Gilbert leads him closer into the room. He releases him to search for something, and he can smell his natural scent of liquor and cigarettes as he opens his mouth to reintroduce, "Okay, now you can look."

Matt opens his eyes and sees Gilbert proudly holding a little black case. Confused, he asks, "What is it?"

"Come take a seat and I'll show you," he invites, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Matthew unknowingly sits close and leans in, their knees touch as Gilbert unlocks the case, revealing a reflective silver instrument.

"What is that?" Matt asks, ignorant of anything music related. Dammit, there he goes again, acting like a blond bimbo who doesn't know shit. At least Gil is supportive of his stupidity as he lets out a small giggle.

"It's a flute, silly," he plays along. "And, as you might have guessed it, it belongs to me."

"Whoa, you play the flute!" Mattie revels in this new information. Gilbert shakes his head and he coughs, "You? Probably the biggest trouble maker I know, plays the flute?"

Gilbert laughs raspily and explains, "Yeah, that's right. Gilbert Beilschmidt, the biggest fucking loser you'll ever meet, plays the fucking flute."

"No, no, you're not a loser!" Matthew clears up and misunderstandings he may have created. He rests a gentle hand on his thigh and smiles, "I think it's actually pretty cool. I would've never thought someone as tough as you liked stuff like this."

"But of course," Gil averts his attention down to the instrument. "I learned when I was just a kid. I mean, me and Ludwig were both forced to learn music, but I was the only one that stayed with it this long."

Gillie's eyes bounce back up into Matthew's, his face closer than ever before, if he was even keeping track. The other boy asks to break their semi-awkward gaze, "Well, uh, do you play any instruments other than the flute?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, that's the only thing I'm good at," he confesses. "You can put any musical instrument in front of me and I can play it."

"That's amazing, Gilbert!" Matthew is genuinely stunned as he praises. "I've tried to learn to play piano in the past, but it's really difficult. You must be a genius!"

He blushes, "Not really. Music is the one thing I'm good at because it's the same in every language."

Matthew clicks his tongue and smacks the other teen cowering in giggling fear, "You stole that from _Mean Girls,_ you little shit!"

"But you have to understand that I am very unoriginal! Where am I supposed to get have of my dialogue?" The Northern American shakes his head in moderate disappointment, but is interrupted, "But hey, what you said about you trying to learn the piano, it reminded me of something."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I remember we used to have this grand piano back in Germany when I was growing up." He flops back on the bed and clutches his heart and the flute in hand, "It was so beautiful! I wish we could have taken it with us! I could have played you a song, or something!"

"What about your home in Germany?" Mattie lays on his side next to him. "Like, why did you have to move? Did something bad happen to your family?"

"Oh my God, I'm making it sound like we were tortured, or something, and we had to defect to American or it meant certain death!" Gil rolls to his side, as well, to make better eye contact with the eighteen year old. "It was not like that at all! My mom just had a better job opportunity over here, so she took it."

"Oh, I see," Matt cuts his eyes. "So you've only been speaking English for… six years?"

He nods, "But I'm a dumbass, so you know it takes longer for me to learn the language."

Mattie chuckles, but continues, "What was it like not being able to speak English? It must've been scary."

"Yeah, it was. I remember I clinged to Ludwig for dear life because he was the only one that spoke the same language as me. Fast forward a few years, Antonio and Francis came along. They actually learned a little German just so they could talk to me and teach me English, and they very quickly became my best friends."

The albino's story is incredible; to come from completely nothing to where he is today is amazing. Matthew dares asks another question, "That's so awesome, Gil! What did you do in the meantime, though? Like, how did you communicate with people when you spoke nothing but German?"

Gilbert rolls his head to the side to look at Matthew and wriggles his eyebrows suggestively, the Canadian shivering in disgust. "Hey, man. If you're not good with words, you'd better be good with your lips, know what I'm saying?"

"You have zero respect for yourself."

"That is very true, my friend."

The pair laugh it off and Gilbert heaves himself to sit up, exclaiming, "Oh yeah! I forgot! I was going to show you!"

"Show me what?" Matthew props his upper body with his elbows pinned up behind him.

The 'Prussian' prepares the flute and begins playing a soft melody unlike anything Mattie has heard before. It is enchanting to listen to, especially coming from the darkest badass he knows. It's just funny how some stereotypes contradict themselves. When he finished, Matthew congratulates, "That was amazing, Gil. I loved that."

"You really did?" he asks in disbelief. The blond nods.

"Of course I did! Who wouldn't? How come you don't play in the school band, or something? I'd come to all your concerts, if you did."

"Well, think about that," Gilbert says with a straight face. "The baddest kid in school, more like _adult_, playing the flute in the school band. That doesn't sound right. I know I shouldn't let them get to me, but I have to keep my reputation up, you know?"

"Yeah, I understand," Matthew agrees. It _is_ a valid point. He would most likely get picked on for stupid reasons, all of which could be avoided if he hadn't joined band. Gilbert's decision of keeping this hobby a secret is probably the best way to go.

"But hey," Gil starts packing away his instrument as he begins talking, "why don't we go someplace else, eh? Sound like fun?"

He chuckles and says with a genuine smile, "Yeah, sounds great."

* * *

Matthew quietly opens the front door of his home and speaks, "Alfie? Are you there?" He comes forth and Gilbert sneaks in after him. He turns to the buff teenager and shushes, "Be quiet! If Al catches us, you'll be dead!"

He nods in total comprehension and heads upstairs to put his things in the Canadian's bedroom. Matthew rushes to the kitchen to quickly take his medication. The sweet relief of knowing he was soon safe from the real Matthew is rather comforting. As he turns to follow his friend upstairs, he almost runs into his mother, obviously exhausted from another hard day at work.

"Oh, Mattie! There you are!" she grins. "What've you been doing all day?"

"Oh, you know," Matthew plays it off. "Hanging out on the computer."

The beautiful woman sighs, "I wish I was as young as you, I had all the time in the world. Now I have to work twenty four seven."

So, she has no idea he was away from home? She has no idea that Gilbert is waiting up in his bedroom without permission? It's a sticky situation he got himself into. It would require a lot of tact to get him out.

"Oh, yeah. Well, I'm gonna go back upstairs," the blond points upwards. "If you need me, just knock."

"Okay, sweetheart!" Once he thought he'd reached the homestretch, his mother calls again, "Wait a second! Come over here."

_Oh_ _shit_, he's in deep shit. And for a goody–two–shoes like him, this is especially serious. He glances down at her, his eyes soften, "Yes, momma?"

She gingerly leans her head on his collarbone and takes a deep breath in, "What's that cologne you're wearing? I don't think we own anything quite like that!"

"I, uh—I don't know what you're talking about!" Matthew lies frantically. _Shit_, of course he knows she's referring to Gilbert's natural boozy scent. He must still must smell him from last night.

"You know," momma Williams' aspect grows curious, "you can tell me anything, honey, I promise I won't get mad."

"W–what! You think I'm doin' bad stuff, ma? Never on my life! I'm a good kid, I can promise you that!" he odes. Fucking Gilbert, swear the boy sweats liquor he drinks so much of it.

She squints as she scans the boy for the obvious suspicion of a lie, but decides to drop it. So with that, Matthew flies up the staircase and locks the bedroom door. Gilbert hops off the bed and asks, "What's the big idea? Are you trying to keep me hostage, or something?"

He makes a shushing noise with his fingers to his curled lips, and responds "Or something."

"What? Am I causing any trouble?"

"No, well, not exactly," Matthew whispers as he makes sure their conversation is secure from outsiders beyond the door. "Technically, I'm not supposed to have you over."

He lifts a dramatic brow, "Then why am I here?"

"I just didn't want to be alone," the blond daydream rubs his upper arm with his left hand. His attitude grows stronger, "But when did a little rebellion hurt anybody, am I right?"

Gilbert smirked, "That's the Beilschmidt I hear in you." His tone levels, "But seriously, why am I not allowed here? Is it a rule, or do your parents just not like me?"

Matthew sucks his teeth, "Well, if you want the truth, that is—"

"_What! _How could your own parents _not_ like me! I'm a riot!" Gilbert raises his fist in exclamation. "Did I do anything to seriously upset them? How could I strike them anything far from dazzling?"

He giggles, "No, it's mostly just Alfred. He has a lot of influence over me, so mom and dad will believe anything he says."

"So he's been saying some things behind my back, is that what's going on?"

"Honestly, yeah, that's exactly how it's been ever since we started hanging out." He takes a daring breath in, "I just haven't figured out how to tell you, but Alfred thinks you're a bad influence. He thinks I'm gonna give into you and pay the price for your mistakes."

Gilbert is quiet for a moment, and that's enough time for Matthew to reflect on the situation, as well. He releases a small gasp and reaches his hand for the albino's arm, "Oh, God! I didn't want for it to sound mean! I'm so, so, very sorry!"

He chuckles and mounts his burly palms on the blond's petite shoulders. His consoling tone takes over, "Don't worry about me! I don't think there's anything you could do that would ever make me truly angry with you!"

Gilbert is silent for a moment, but gets on his knees and lightly pushes his arm, "There's something else wrong, isn't there?" Damn, Gilbert's like a lost puppy dog, just as loyal and persistent. Matthew hides his irritability, so he places his chin on his shoulder in attempts to coax an answer out of him. "Come on, Birdie! Tell me, tell me now!"

The Canadian caves in laughing. He reveals slowly, "Okay, you win! Well, I didn't really wanna tell anybody, but there's been this whole situation with—"

"Matthew, Ivan's here!" his mother shrieks from downstairs, as if it were a happy occasion to see the Russian descent. If only she knew half of the things he did to him. If only he could tell anyone.

Matthew hastily grabs the 'Prussian' by the hand once again and shoves him in the bedroom. He flies downstairs and greets the tall, handsome Ivan Braginski. Yeah, maybe he's a pretty shitty guy, but that doesn't seem to matter when they're face to face. Oh, God, how could he have gotten himself in this mess?

"Hello! Earth to Mattie!" he waves, that chant all too familiar. Too familiar for Ivan's like, anyway. He scoffs, "It was like you were on another planet!"

"I—I'm totally fine!" Matthew scratches the back of his neck. Although his opinion on Ivan is ever changing, his awkwardness remains the same. "What did you come over for?"

"I thought we could just hang out," he comes a little closer. "Let's go upstairs, then."

Shit, _double_ shit. Matthew is royally screwed. He thought he was in hot water before, but nothing like this! Now they're going to be exposed, and what will become of Gilbert, then? He is never going to see him again, Alfred will make sure of it! Why is his life controlled like some sick, twisted puppet show? Ivan goes to open the bedroom door, but Matthew quickly disregards it.

"No, don't go in my room! It–It's a mess, I'm embarrassed!" Ivan raises a brow but takes a strong hold of the boy's wrist and they head for the bathroom. The door locks and Matthew knows exactly what he's in for.

"So, I wanted to know what happened last night," Ivan breaks the silence. Matthew shakes his head. He lifts his forehead, his lips chapped and slightly parted, "Were you with Gilbert?"

Well, it isn't like he can lie now of all times. Matthew _was_ with Gilbert, and willingly. It's inescapable, oh God, Ivan has him cornered. He lowers his head as he whispers, "Yeah, I was."

"What were you doing? Did he drag you there?"

"No," Matthew fibs. "I wanted to see a movie, so I asked Gillie to go with me."

Ivan pops his jaw and bites his lip, "And I also don't like the way you talk to that guy, either. Don't act like I haven't heard half of the things you're calling him."

"Well, we broke up a long time ago. And it's my life, and I just thought you didn't care anymore."

The light haired boy opens his mouth to say something, but hesitates. He places his hands on his hips, his head angled as he asks, "Answer me truthfully, Matthew. Are you dating Gilbert Beilschmidt?" Afraid of consequence, Matthew shakes his head like a wet dog. "Then why do you care about him so much! You should be caring about _me!_"

"I…" Matthew stutters. Ivan placed a finger on his trembling lip and hushes further argument. It was strange but soothing.

"You know I care about you more than he does, don't you?"

"No, that's not true," Matt dares to argue back, feeling immediate remorse. "I mean, I'm sure at some point in time you did. But that's over, right?"

Ivan's lips lay flat as he takes a deep breath in. "That's why I came here. I've been thinking lately, that letting you go was the biggest mistake I've ever made." Oh goodness, no one can coax him like Braginski can. Matthew never feels more actively appreciated. He continues flirting, "And I still have the tattoo, darling."

Oh dear Lord, how can he say no? All of those bad memories, the bad taste their toxic love left in his mouth is rinsed out. He's convinced Ivan is a changed man, it isn't possible he will go back to his old ways. Yet, something is telling him it's not true, that the possible outcomes of a rebound are dangerous.

"So, would you mind being mine again, Mattie, love?" Ivan breaks the blond's train of thought. Matthew shakes his head, and it sets a spark of aggression in the other ablaze. "What do you mean? So there _is_ someone else, _isn't_ there?"

He nods his head again, "I'm sorry, Ivan, but I just don't think it's a good idea, you know? We went through hell and back when we split for the first time, I don't wanna have to do that again!"

"But you didn't answer the question of there being someone on the side," he childishly brings back up. Mattie remains silent and he shouts, "It's Gilbert, isn't it! You lied to me!"

"P–Please don't be mad! It's just me, I swear to God!" he hides his ears behind his shoulders. "I just want some time alone, there's no one else! Please understand that!"

"I somehow don't believe you!" Ivan corners him in, a smirk so vengeful haunts his features. "You and I both know how much I hate it when you lie, right, Mattie?"

A sudden wave of bravery overtakes Matthew as he takes a courageous step forward, Ivan backs off. "I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about." He makes one last fiery statement, "I said I don't want a relationship at this point in time, and goddammit, I mean it!"

Ivan raises his chin and glowers down at the boy, and oddly states, "I see. Fair enough."

And with that, the "friendly" giant stalks off back downstairs. A door slam follows and Matthew takes a breather, as he staggers back to his bedroom. That encounter was pretty intense, a lot different than his usual tactics of flirting for his love back. He unlocks and reopen his door, discovering his friend lying on his bed, analyzing the stuffed toys that usually reside there.

He wears an unusually melancholy expression and Matthew hastily apologizes, "I'm so sorry I locked you in here again."

"What did he want?"

Matt widens his eyes and laughs, "It's nothing to worry about! He just apologized for how he was acting last night!"

Oh shit, he isn't going to buy it, but, who _would?_ Gilbert sighs and grabs his duffel bag. He opens the window and chucks his belongings out, his legs swing over the sill and prepared to jump. Matthew halts him with both hands on his shoulders. "Wait! Where are you going!"

Gilbert wrenches his neck to look up at him. "It's a school night, and I don't want to get you in anymore trouble than you're already in."

"I'm not in trouble! You don't need to leave!" he convinces. "Don't jump! Stay here with me, please!"

Gilbert's eyes pace back and forth as he half assedly explains, "Well, I do want to stay longer, but I'm putting you in danger. If you get caught, there would be no way we'd see each other again."

"Yeah, but…" Matthew purposely trails off, intending the other to finish for him. He didn't. "I'm just really lonely here, you know? Alfred is busy with Arthur, I hate my dad, mom is either working or tired from working—"

"Whoa, whoa, there!" Gilbert interrupts with a suddenly chipper attitude. "What's that about your father, I hear?"

Blondie puffs his cheeks and jerks his head the other way, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"If I stay," he bargains, "will you tell me all about your daddy issues?"

As much as he wants to argue with some sarcastic commentary, Matthew complies. Gilbert scampers from the window sill and sits at the edge of the bed, legs crossed and ears perked.

"Okay, ready when you are!" he exclaims a little too happily.

Matthew takes a deep breath in, exhaling nervously. "Okay, but you're the only person who knows this. I mean, the _only_ one. So you really can't tell anyone, got that?"

Gilbert shakes like a dog and scoots closer, making the atmosphere seemingly calmer, to the native Canadian. He inhales one more time, "Okay, so what you need to know is that my dad is a big douche, no joke."

"Your reason being…?"

Matthew turns his head and mumbles the ugliest thing he's sure he's ever going to say, "Well, I know he's kinda cheating on my momma a little."

Gilbert's quiet, and not like a normal quiet. It's the sort of quiet that speaks for itself, that needs no words to express how angered and melancholic the transmitter feels. And at the moment, Matt looks up to see the most sarcastically dumbfounded expression the former bad boy's face. He licks his lips and sucks his teeth, hissing, "_A little? Are you fucking kidding me?"_

Matthew swallows nervously, "What do you mean?"

"He's cheating on your mother!" Gil exclaims, his eyes widens. "I can't believe you think that's okay!"

"Hey, I never said it was!" Matthew raises his brows and clamps his hands down on the German's knee, inching even closer so no one can hear their conversation. "I'm just saying that I'm pretty sure that's what's going on!"

Gilbert's heart seems to break right in front of him as he concludes, "Is that why you asked to stay over that one night with Antonio and Francis? To get away from him?"

"Yeah…" he trails off, bobbing his head. "Sometimes I just need a break."

"Well, what the hell was he doing!" he asks with a sudden burst of unwanted attention. "What was making you so uncomfortable that you had to leave your own fucking house!"

"Um," Matthew's eyes pan around the bedroom for a distraction. He didn't plan for this conversation to delve this deep in thought. Then again, what _does_ he expect? The good ol' "hey, my parents are cheating on each other, and my home life is practically a living hell"? Sure, _that_ will go over smoothly. He brings his fanned knuckles to lips to, hopefully, muffle his response, "Well, he had a strange lady over."

"Stop mumbling," Gilbert reaches over and takes control of his tiny fists. "I'm not going to be mad at you, so you can tell me anything, okay?"

He nods, glancing upwards at the teen's ivory face reflecting the moonlight from the window behind them. Mattie's heart skips rope, his wildest dreams seem to become reality; he's practically sitting in Gilbert's lap, face inches apart, whispering as so they don't get caught. This is nirvana if he's ever experienced it before!

"Well," Matthew starts, "I'm pretty convinced that my father is seeing someone else, judging from what I saw that night."

Gilbert's brows raise and his jaw plummets, "How the hell can he do that to you guys! That is so fucked up, I cannot believe that bastard!"

Matt sighs; he knew he would react this way. But, it isn't necessarily a bad thing. Someone is finally on his side, and it feels damn good for once. The boy derails his train of thought with more rambling, "That's so low! How dare he bring that shit into your own fucking house! What a coward!"

"I'm glad you think so strongly of this," Mattie chuckles nervously. "I was afraid you would laugh at me, or think I was lying to you."

"Of course not! I'm completely on board with you!" he reassures with a pat on the hand. He regains a serious aspect for a moment's time, "But, hey. You told me a secret, so I'll you one, eh?"

He nods as Gilbert clears his throats, his bloodshot eyes bounce around the slowly darkening bedroom. "I'm not going to lie to you, I've had my fair share of adulteries in the past."

Mattie opens his eyes a little wider and Gilbert quickly explains to cover his ass, "But it was back when I was dating Elizabeth, and you know the rest of that story! So believe me when I tell you that cheating is never right!"

"Ah, well, no shit, jackass," he smart mouths. "Did ya come up with that all on your own?"

Gil feigns false offense, "I'm just offering advice as an ex-cheater! That's, like, my darkest secret!" He crosses arms childishly and huffs, "Glad to see you care so much!"

Oh, so this is what everyone is talking about, what they're really talking about. That's why Alfred doesn't want him to pursue a relationship with Gilbert, because he's allegedly a bad person. Quote: _used _to be. He said it himself, he and Elizabeth had a confusing relationship, so cheating may have been second nature on both parts, not entirely just Gilbert's. Although, everyone knows the stigma; once a cheater, always a cheater.

"Oh," is all he can say after letting that information sink. "I didn't know you were like that."

The non-English native rubs his arm up and down, looking him in the eye and consoling, "But I promise you, I am a completely changed man, now! It's just, that particular relationship wasn't good for either of us. I guess we stayed because we didn't want to be lonely."

"That hits pretty close to home," Matthew slips, not knowing he's revealed so information. Gilbert gives that adorably dumbfounded expression, but he denies in shaky laughter, "Oh, God! Now I can't get rid of you, can I?"

"You're damn right," his boisterous chuckle is a little too loud for pleasure, as Matthew is sure he can hear his remaining family members stirring throughout the rest of the household.

He immediately brings a finger to the other boy's lips and goes, "Shh! Are you trying to get us caught! My dad's gonna come in here and kill us both!"

Matthew senses Gilbert's enamel on his bare flesh as he smirks. His oblivious bad boy comes out again as he grabs his wrist in dominance, consoling vaguely, "Don't worry, I've got you, babe."

His heart fluttered at that word, "What're you talking about?"

"Apparently your dad isn't going out of his merry–fucking–way to watch you and your brother. Don't worry, you're safe."

He shakes his head, "Nuh uh! He's gonna murder us both! I can't take the risk! You gotta hide under the bed, or somethin'!"

What Gilbert does next is too much for Matthew's little and battered heart to accommodate, on account of how fast he made it beat. The ash blond strips off his black t-shirt and attempts to crawl on top of the younger boy, but he stops him in his unholy tracks.

"W–What're you doing, Gilbert!" Matt panics as his foreign features appear more recognizable the closer they become.

"My logic is," he explains in even closer proximity, his breath clinging to every hair standing on the other's body, "if your dad is _really_ going to check up on you, he would be going out of his way to make himself look suspicious, and I'm pretty sure that's the last thing he me, he isn't going to come in here."

"But are you out of your _fucking_ mind?" he hisses as he wrinkles his face. "What if he _does_ come in? Then we're as good as dead!"

The nearing footsteps outside did not help the pulsating throbs in Matthew's heart and head, as he knows the consequences of this seemingly intimate act will be severe. Gil scoffs and whispers in his ear, their temples touching, reminding Matt that they are in present time and day, "I'm just trying to prove a point, Matthew. You'll see."

So, with Gilbert in a hypersexual stance above him, Matthew essentially gives in and wraps his hands around his neck to set the obvious scene. His father's footsteps approach the closed door and stops suddenly, as does Matt's heartbeat. The consequences run through his mind one more time, because he's sure the other teen doesn't even know the half of it! Cell phone and laptop confiscated, grounded for months on end! How would they be able to see each other if that were to happen? Yet, as the German predicted, his dad stalls for a moment, and walks off without further incident. It's like some kind of magic trick! More like, a skill obtained from overuse and practice.

Matthew's violet orbs bounce back up into crimson as he asks, "How–how'd you know that would happen?"

Gilbert only responds in that same jackass-y tone of speak, "You just have to loosen up, Birdie! Learn to live a little!"

"So that's what you meant by 'proving a point'? By scaring me half to death, ya little shit?" he sits up and giggles lightheartedly.

"Well, how old are you?" he inquires rhetorically with a mature grunt.

"Eighteen, duh."

Gil grins and leans in hazardously closer, "And how old am _I?_"

"Twenty?" he makes a wild guess, despite knowing the answer. Shit, why does he play dumb, even on a whim?

"And what will I be in January…?"

"Twenty one."

He bobs his snow white head and continues his point, "Right, so what does that make us?"

Mattie snorts and slaps the boy with a pillow originally resting behind him, "Don't make me say it! You're so annoying!"

"But you know I'm right!" Gillie pleads, cowering in fear from the premeditated blow. He seizes the opportunity of Matthew's mercy to speak, "We're technically legal adults! It's the law, last time I checked, I don't care how cheesy it sounds!"

"It _sounds _like you'll do anything to piss off my parents!" he mimics.

"But come on! Don't you want to?" he reasons. "I remember the day I turned eighteen I drove all the way to Nevada with me, myself and a bottle of scotch." He turns his head to scoff, as if he's actually back in that moment in time. "Too bad Ludwig has a huge stick up his ass, because he refused to come get me and I wrecked the car on my way home. But I think you get the idea!"

"No, I don't!" Matthew shakes his head and playfully hides behind the pillow he was beating said German with moments earlier. "If anything, that makes me even more nervous to become an adult! That sounds so dangerous! I could never do that on my own!"

"But would you if you had someone to do it with?"

He pauses, "Wait, what are you talking about?"

"You know," his demeanor changes drastically from semi serious to a challenging one, "I think it's safe to say you've never done anything illicit, have you?"

"Never! What're you implying?"

He lightly shakes the boy by his shoulders and pleads, "Oh, come on! Be bad with me, Birdie!"

"W–what!" Matthew exclaims, eyebrow plucked and mouth drawn wildly. "Okay, so I know I've called you crazy before, but I'm serious this time when I ask you are you _fucking insane!_"

"What have you got to lose!" Gil bargains. To be honest, Matthew was already sold on the idea, but the consequences would be almost too unbearable, causing his reluctance. His mother and father would practically throw a fit! And then what would become of him, of _them?_ The teen glances back up at him with the cutest, most loveable expression absolutely no one could say no to. "Matthew, please?"

"Ah, God damn the puppy dog eyes!" he gives in. With his head hung low and spirits low, Matt agrees with the delinquent, "Okay, Gilbert, you've convinced me."

"I… I have?" he stutters and bats his blond eyelashes. How… _cute_.

"Yeah, I guess so," Matthew snorts his current breath out his nostrils. "I'll do whatever you want."

"So, what you're telling me, is that you're letting me corrupt you?" Gilbert asks in a tone that's creepy but innocent simultaneously.

"S–shut up!" he smacks the teen square in face with the pillow once again. But, on a more serious note, Mattie flutters his eyes around and questions shyly, "But are you sure you wanna? Like, there isn't someone else you'd much rather do this with, like Francis or Antonio?"

He gasps and defends, "Oh no, of course not, Birdie! You're my dearest friend, I can't imagine getting shit faced every weekend until graduation with anyone else rather than you!"

"Gee, thanks, Gil," he rolls his purple irises.

Said boy snaps his fingers into pistols towards Matthew and he remarks, "No problemo, sweet thing!"

He recieves a few chuckles from this cheesy action, and the Northern American begins gathering the other's discarded clothing afterwards. He heads for the open window and wedges it a little wider for their escape route, bidding, "Well, I think it's getting pretty late. And your shit's still sitting outside, if you can recall from earlier. You should probably start heading back."

Gil slumps over towards Matthew's direction and lingers on the opposite side of the window sill, his upper body is supported by his forearm leaning "seductively" against the wall, his wildly suggestive facial expression not helping in the least bit. He finally speaks out, "Do I really have to go, darling?"

Mattie's heart beats in his ears as he jokes, "Yeah, you do. It _is_ twelve on a school night, you know."

Gilbert puckers his lips in that way only he knows how as he kids, "It's so late, though! Why don't you just let me stay the night?"

"Get out and go to sleep!" he giggles and tosses back the t-shirt he so kindly 'left' at his disposal. Gil gives those bastard puppy dog eyes a final time and Matthew bargains, "I don't know what _you're_ getting so upset about! I'll see you in school tomorrow, _I'm_ not going anywhere!"

"Okay," Gilbert simply says before he climbs down and out the window, keeping himself up on the trellis. He pops in one last time and both boys rest their faces on the sill, staring into each other's exotic eyes as the full moon beautifully casts shadows across the other teen's death–like complexion. His bleached hair looks almost white in the nightlight, making him akin a ghost, and Matthew's stomach drops ten floors. Is this truly romance, attraction, even? Or simply confusion? Whatever it is, the German seems to almost destroy the mood as he vaguely strategizes, "But I've got some interesting plans for tomorrow, don't you worry."

"Gillie, what're you talking about?" Mattie yawns, fatigue clearly starting to have its way with him. "You're not planning to do something asinine, are you?"

And he smiles, _oh_, that smile. Along with the hitch of his breath in the background… _perfect_. "You'll just have to find out at school tomorrow, now won't you?"

* * *

_AN: um, hi. It's been awhile, hasn't it? First off, let me apologize. I really like this story and FF and all of you guys and I never wanted to be away from it all, but some things have happened. Now time for the explanation: I pretty much took the school year off. But the simplest way I can retell it is: girl meets girl, girls fall in love, girls fall out of love. And yeah, I've pretty much fucked up my life in the past few months after that happened (a few people PMed me about the story a couple months back when I was going to update, which thank you again for your concern!), and I have not been able to update. _

_But that's in the past for a reason, it's behind me, I want to talk about the future of this story! The only main concern I have for this it's updates. Over the summer, I have to attend summer school, due to me "fucking up my life" and failing school. Also, I do not get along with my family at the moment and my therapists all think I am very unstable, so they may put me away for a little while, I don't know when, I don't know for how long. And if that happens (which it most likely will), I don't really want to promise updates because of these reasons. I hope I don't up and leave like that again, that was horrible. _

_Again, I am so sorry for leaving this story! I promise it is still very much in progress! I hope you can forgive me, and I'll see you very soon, and I mean it this time! _

_And while I was out, I thought of some great new ideas, so this story's going to be much more interesting than I had initially planned before ; ) ps: I am so sorry this chapter is v dramatic like wtf self w/e I guess you guys deserve some plot development for being so patient w/ me lol. I also changed Gilbert's age and reasoning for red eyes and shit in chapter two so!_


	9. Chapter 9

_Ring, ring!_

Gilbert ignores his alarm for a few moments before he eventually sits up and turns it off. With one knee propping up his elbow, he runs his fingers through his scalp as he glances down at his cell phone. He types in the password and is greeted by the lovely wallpaper of Matthew at their lunch table, wearing one of his many handmade flower crowns. Gil smirks and hides his blushing face in his shoulder, peeking back at the screen as if the boy in the picture is actually present with him. He plops on his back once again and sighs, "Oh my fucking God! What a cutie!"

The German rolls to his side and curls up into a ball, simultaneously opening a messaging thread labeled, "Birdie". Gilbert peers up to the second pillow on his bed, Matthew's pillow, and sluggishly reaches for it. He brings it to his face and fills his nostrils with the Northern American's oddly feminine scent. Matthew smells just like gardenia flowers with a hint of the natural pleasure of hair. It is engaging, to say in the least. Oh, to have that teenager back in his bed but, perhaps, not with the same innocent intentions as before.

Gil shakes the thought, as it's preposterous as it is unrealistic. Sure, Matthew may be open to different sexual orientations, but Gilbert has doomed himself to be seemingly straight. And if everyone thinks he's straight, so will Matthew, and eventually someone like Ivan will take his place. What a predicament that is buzzing around his mind this morning!

Gilbert finally returns to his initial task and sends a text message: _Hey_, _Birdie! What time do you usually catch the bus?_

About a minute later, he receives a reply: _Uh, it should be here in abt thirty min. Why? _

_You want me to pick you up? I'll be your chauffeur!_

_Sure! But idk, what if Alfred finds out and gets all pissy?_

Shit, he's right. But, something sparks in Gilbert, and he sits back up to respond something intelligible. _Hey, remember what I said last night? This lifestyle requires you to throw all your fucks out the window! I mean, it's just a ride to school, I can't have any bad intentions with that, can I?_

He could practically hear the boy giggle on the other line as the next message comes through: _Okaii! I'll be waiting for you ;*_

Then, another message follows, much to Gilbert's pleasure. _Oh, and don't be late!_

Gil's heart beats out of his solid gold chest and the blood rushes to his cheeks. He soon dresses for school accordingly and makes certain to pack a combination of the clothes he stole from Matthew's house the previous night and his own in his bookbag for later. He takes a whiff and groans at the scent of the gardenias, "How the hell does this kid smell so nice?"

He stuffs the clothing in the bag and races downstairs to ensure he has rights to the car today, and he heads straight for the Canadian's house. Today is going to be one of the best days, and he's making sure that he's not going to fuck it up, either.

* * *

As Gilbert approaches the front door, he feels as nervous as boy picking up his upperclassman prom date, but he does not know why. He assess himself once again, and quickly finds the problem. His septum piercing has not been tucked away, and a pack of Pall Malls and a lighter hangs out in his uniform shirt pocket. Overall, he looks like every parent's worst nightmare; and he's expecting to take Matthew away with him? In his wildest dreams! He hastily conceals his piercing inside his nostrils and and stows his cigarettes in his back pants pocket, and just in the nick of time.

A middle aged man answers the door with an expression of the utmost disrespect and disgust, his eyes run up and down Gilbert, very analytical. So, this must be the disgrace known as Matthew's father. First impressions are still everything, so he has to straighten up. The Gilbert Beilschmidt Matthew knows isn't the Gilbert Beilschmidt his father will know.

"Who're you?" he lazily asks, looking up at the younger one.

Gilbert clears his throat and makes his best attempts to tame his accent, "I'm Gilbert, Matthew's friend. I came here this morning to pick him up and go to school."

Mr. Williams plucks a brow and coughs, "Oh, oh, right. The German kid." He turns around and bellows into the house, "Matthew! Your friend's here for you, since I guess you can't catch the bus!"

Gil cinches his face at this rude remark, but returns to a cheerful aspect once the beautiful teenager himself comes rushing down the staircase. He pants back in defense, "Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first ten times!"

"Wait, did ya take your medicine this morning?" he stops his son.

Matthew halts, but still does not turn around to face him, "Yeah, I did!"

"What about your new ones? Your crazy pills, eh?" his father "kids" around.

The peaceful boy Gilbert knows Matthew for seems to disappear just as fast as the remark is made. He puffs out his cheeks and grunts a quick, "mhm", and the pair skips off the porch and into the vehicle before anything else can arise.

Gilbert hurriedly jams the key into the ignition, handing the cigarettes over to Matthew to hold while he drives. Once they pull out into traffic, the driver asks, "So, mind me asking what that was about?"

Matthew rubs his eyes underneath his glasses, "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Oh, okay then."

The silence that follows crushes the good mood Gilbert was previously in this morning, but who cares, right? He notions to the poison in the cutie's lap, "Can you light one up for me?"

Mattie nods, handing him over a cigarette to which he accepts it with his open grin. The other teen giggles and plays along, reaching for the lighter next. He carefully burns the end of the product as so not to set the bad boy ablaze, and Gilbert steals his first breath of the toxin. He mutters past the object in the corner in his mouth, "Thanks, babe!"

Matthew chuckles, "No problem, hun!" He stalls and, hopefully, is staring at Gilbert in the meantime, "Why didn't you have a smoke before you picked me up? I thought that's what you usually did."

"Yeah, _usually_," he emphasizes. "But what was I supposed to do? Show up to your door smelling like cigarettes in front of your parents? And besides, I usually smoke on my way to school just to look cool in front of all you kids."

"You're such a loser, sometimes," he tiredly insults. After a few moments of silence once again, Gilbert glances over to discover Matthew, starry eyed and looking up at him and only him.

"Can I help you, or is my awesomeness just that attractive?" he makes a snide remark, still half serious.

Matthew laughs it off and follows with a question, "Do you smoke when you're stressed?"

"Yeah, most of the time." He cuts his ruby eyes over at the passenger for a split moment and asks, "Who wants to know?"

Williams sneers and bites his bottom lip. _Oh shit, that's actually really hot,_ Gilbert worries. He snickers and blows his last puff before tapping the excess ash out the window, flakes wavering in the air behind them. Gilbert knows exactly what the teenager wants and, without much thought later, hands the cigarette over to Matthew, he, placing it on the lips he just bit.

"Thanks, Gillie! I owe ya one!" Mattie then pulls out his cell phone and poses for a few pictures.

Gilbert jerks his head quickly to reprimand, "What the hell are you doing! You're going to get caught if you post those pictures somewhere!"

"Relax, old man!" Matthew grins. "I'm not gonna post them anywhere! They're just to have to prove I'm a badass!"

It was Gilbert's idea to submit the goody two shoes to a bad boy lifestyle, but it seems to have more of an impact on the wrongdoer himself. Matthew is having way too much fun toying with Gil's emotions this early in the experiment. When they approach a stop light, Matthew positions the camera towards him and imitates that adorable giggle, "Smile, Gillie!"

Caught by surprise, Gilbert swivels around with a confound aspect, and Mattie snaps the photo. He laughs into himself and begins the editing process. The driver leans closer to take a peek on his screen, "Was that a picture of me! And that better not be Snapchat!"

He giggles and reveals his masterpiece; a photo of the white haired boy caught by surprise, with hand drawn hearts adorning his figure. The caption reads, _"__im havin a rly good morning :)"_

"Aww, you don't mean that, do you?" Gilbert changes his mood drastically and melts in his seat, Matthew nods.

"Mhm, you're a cutie!" He takes his mobile back and smiles, "I'm saving that one to my story so I can look at it later."

The highkey flirt! The tension between them these days is thicker, the boundaries pushed a little further, promptly. Yet, Gilbert is too afraid to actually do it, to ask Matthew out. Well, if that one occasion he asked him in German counts. Nonetheless, his sly attempts have failed, and now they're stuck in this limbo until he can gather enough courage to make his final move. Oh, how he sometimes hated to be in puppy love!

"So, have you ever smoked before?" Gilbert tries to take his mind off of things.

"No!" Mattie coughs, a cloud of smoke escapes his lips. He chokes and retorts, "And I don't understand how you can be addicted to it! It's horrible!"

"Then give it back to me!" he teases. Mattie returns the cigarette back into his open lips and he thanks, "_Danke sehr, _sweetheart!"

When Gilbert inhales his first puff back, he's welcomed by the overwhelming flavor of vanilla bean. Matthew is wearing chapstick, now is he? Now all Gilbert can think about is tasting that sweetness again, but not on a secondhand cigarette. After too much time for thinking, Matthew breaks the silence and asks, "So, is this what you meant by 'plans' when we were talking yesterday?"

"Yes, but it is only the beginning!" he encourages. The other boy shoots a dirty glance his way and he defends, "Don't give me that look! I think you'll like what I have in store for you!"

"Will I?" he remarks antisocially, looking back down at his phone.

"Uh huh! But I have only one request for you."

"What's that?"

Gilbert dramatically slides the vehicle into a car lot and shifts the stick into park. He leans onto the center console, pursing his lips and demanding, "Get your bag and leave your English books here. We won't be needing them."

"What're you talking about?" Matthew doubts him just as he knew he would. "You're not thinking about ditching class, are you? Because we gotta pass in order to graduate, and we all know how well you're doing with that—"

Gil casually places his hand on Matt's mouth to cut him off mid sentence, and he repeats, "Just leave them in the car, everything will work out this way! Think of this as another trust exercise!"

Matthew lowers his brow and caves in, "Fine! But I don't see why it matters so much to your 'master plan'!"

As the boy turns around to retrieve his requested school things, Gilbert brings his hand up to his face as discreetly as he possibly can to test his theory. He takes another smell and, sure enough, the overpowering vanilla smell is indeed present, and not just a figment of his imagination. So now gardenias, hair, and vanilla are all scents he can associate with Matthew. What a heavenly combination!

"Okay, here ya go," he turns back around, and drops a binder and two textbooks on Gilbert's lap, directly over his manhood. He whinces, and Matthew shrugs, going back on his cell phone, "Hey, you asked for it, I really don't know what you're complaining about!"

"It—it's all good. But I don't think I can say the same thing for my future offspring," Gilbert remarks as he climbs over the seat to stow the books in the back. As he has his back turned, rear end in air, he overhears the sound of a camera snapping, and he sits back in his seat just as quick. He interrogates, "What the hell was that!"

Matthew giggles mischievously and unveils the finished Snapchat. It contains the German hanging over the car seat, backside exposed, with the caption, "_when u have an ass that just wont quit :P"_

Gilbert tries to maintain a neutral facial expression as he says frankly, "Get out of my car."

"What! Why!" he giggles uncontrollably at this point. They exchange long, hard looks before Matthew bursts into tears from laughter, hiding his face in his lap. And as he smiles, oh Lord, that smile, Gilbert senses his heart warm up a thousand degrees and combust into a million little pieces from the pressure. Only God knows how it's Matthew that makes him want to jump and play and make his tired, worn down soul new again. Funny, how that out of all of the people in the world, out of all the other opportunities he has to meet someone new, Gilbert just feels instantly attracted to the ditzy, awkward blond that no one understands. Some may say it's adorable, some may say they'll never last, but who knows until he makes his official first move.

_I've got to make that boy mine before some takes him away,_ Gilbert thinks. _I don't think I could handle it if someone stole my happiness again, not this time._

"Uh, hello! Creepasaurus rex much?" Matthew calls. Gilbert shakes his head like a wet dog and he giggles, "Are you asleep, or something? You were just staring off into space,!"

"I don't know," he responds coolly, receiving a complexed expression in return. He rubs his eyes and delves further, "I was just thinking about stuff."

"Ah, so I see." There's a moment of silence before Matthew speaks up, softer and with a tinge of shame, "Hey, so about what happened earlier. What my dad said was just—"

"You don't have to tell me anything if it makes you uncomfortable," Gilbert halts him. "I understand how parents can be, and you shouldn't have to explain yourself. Just know that I don't ever want to put you in a position like that."

He glances up from his palms in his lap and over at Gil with compassion and relief. "Thanks, Gillie. I… don't know what I'd do without you."

Perhaps he has taken that a bit too close to heart, but it's already too late. Gilbert takes everything a bit too seriously, but who's to blame but himself? Does Matthew truly mean what he said, or is it just a kind gesture? Whichever the case may be, it feels damn nice to be appreciated for once.

The passenger peeks down at his cell phone and exclaims, "Dammit, school's almost starting! We'd better start heading inside."

Gilbert complies and begins exiting the vehicle. But before they reach the school's front doors, hardly walking a couple yards from the car, Matthew catches up to him by grabbing ahold of his hand. His rough and tough, sinful hands are lucky enough to be touching, no, _holding_, Matthew's soft and angelic one at this very moment! On school property! The excuse the blond pulls is, "Hey, you left me, you big jerk!"

Gil decides to play along and teases, "And what are you going to do about it?"

Mattie slows his pace and sends a playful glare his way, waving his fist and threatening, "Fight me, short stack."

He chuckles and pushes the slightly taller boy out of the way, and they enter the building together. Gilbert walks Matthew to his homeroom, unknowing that his two best friends share the same class. So, after mingling for a bit, Gil finally leaves to return to his regular schedule, uninterrupted by suspensions and detentions. It feels nice to finally not be in trouble, even if it is just for a little while. He imagines just what it would be like if he hadn't complied to the teacher's orders, and never began talking to Matthew. He shakes his head and begins class, already daydreaming about how his day with Matthew might go.

* * *

Gilbert annoyingly taps his pencil on the desk as he stares down the clock, the second hand ticking away until the last few minutes of math class. All of his teachers were elated to see him actually show up for his morning classes, which was odd. He is never usually in class, that's for certain. But that doesn't mean he isn't interested in the material. He's just a little further behind everyone else, and that becomes frustrating from time to time.

To be honest, no one actually understands him better than Matthew. He helps him on assignments and answers any questions he can think to ask, most of which pertain to his second language, whilst simultaneously not being his best subject, either. Yes, the teachers do help out, but Matthew has that patience and tolerance of a young kid that they do not, and that is probably what makes most the difference.

Yet here he is, verging on twenty one years old, sitting in a high school classroom chock full of youngsters who have undoubtedly already preceded him. He glances around the room; all these kids want to do is succeed in life, and do everything mommy and daddy have already planned out for them. Go to college, get a job, get married, have kids, and die already. It's the same cycle for everyone, played on repeat, no matter how different he looks at it every time. Actually, it makes him feel a little better that the thing he's most looking forward to isn't class, but meeting up with a cute boy and skipping the rest of school. Beats going to college anyday.

The bell finally rings and Gilbert is one of the first to rush out the door. After all, he is a man with a mission! He rides the hallways with hopes of bumping into Matthew, but with no such luck. He'll just have to wait to execute their plan. He reopens the messaging thread to have another look at their texts.

_Hey, me and Irina are just finishing up our work now! Where did you say u wanted to meet?_

_Instead of going outside to lunch, go to the cafeteria and wait for me in there! I should be there soon!_

_Lol okaii. But I still don't know what u have planned._

_You'll find out, don't worry._

_I think I should b worried, knowing u._

_It's a mystery_

:3c

Gilbert stows his phone in his back pocket and speedwalks to the cafeteria. Sure enough, the blond sweetheart is sitting at a table of strangers, dazed and confused. He smiles, emerging through the double door and greeting him, "Sup, cutie. You looking for someone?"

Matthew smirks and slips his backpack off to save their seats, "Alright, let's go get something to eat before the lines get too crazy."

"But haven't you heard? That's not what we're doing today, my darling," Gilbert roleplays as Matt cluelessly follows along. He points to his bag, "Get your stuff, I'm taking you out to lunch."

The teen's eyes widen, "Oh! But I didn't bring my wallet or anything! I can pay you back, or—"

Gilbert angles his head in haughty disbelief and retorts, "Birdie, it's on me! Just get your shit and come on!"

He smiles wholeheartedly and recollects his things to follow the teen out of the school. Gil opens the car door for Mattie and the two kids sit in the parking lot for a moment. He pulls out his bookbag and unzips it for the contents. Matthew angles his head and asks, "What are you doing?"

"Well, if we're going to skip school," he continues to rummage through the bag, "we can't wear the school uniform. It'll give us right away."

"Oh, that's true." Matt rests his cheek in his palm, "But I don't have any clothes! Why didn't ya tell me earlier?"

"You _do_ have clothes," Gilbert hands over a pile of folded clothing. "I got you some the last night." Matthew unfolds the t-shirt on top to inspect it and blushes, the older man smirking maliciously like he knows a dark secret.

"O–oh," he stutters. "I didn't think you knew about that."

"Yeah, I thought I'd bring that particular shirt today because I think it deserves an explanation."

Matthew skits his eyes around the car, anywhere but at the t-shirt and Gilbert. He eventually cracks a smile and breaks into a little giggle fit as he covers his exposed teeth. "It, it's my old Fall Out Boy t-shirt."

"So it's true," Gil crosses his arms and bites his cheek. "Matthew Williams is emo trash."

He chuckles and leans on the passenger side window, admitting, "You got me."

Gilbert scoffs sarcastically and shakes his head, "Well, I didn't know what to expect, to be honest."

"Okay, so I used to be kinda emo, so what!" the teenager giggles.

Gil raises his eyebrows and smiles, "It's cute, that's what!"

Matthew sticks his upper lip out and angles his head down, his violet eyes peering over the rim of his circular glasses. Shit, _shit_, Gilbert's heart raced pretty fast back there. He needs to watch out for things like that, as they keep occurring with no particular reason why. He can't let his attraction be completely obvious.

"So, I'm just gonna change right here," Matthew snaps him back into reality. Gilbert mentally smacks himself in the face as the teen finishes, "Don't look, 'kay?"

He nods and turns the other way… for now. Matthew Williams is changing in his car, how crazy is that? After much reconciliation, Gilbert fights with his better knowledge and takes a quick peek at the half naked boy behind him. Matthew's shoulders are slender and his back is sleek, both wrapped tightly in clear, ivory skin. Gilbert whips his head back around and covers his mouth with his palms from embarrassment. He feels his hands shaking, his stomach wavering like he's going to puke. What is this feeling? Because he's sure he's never felt it before.

After a while, he overhears Matthew's sweet and bubbly voice calling him, "Gillie! You haven't gotten dressed yet!"

Gilbert wakes up from his stance and shakes his head, "Oh, shit, I guess I didn't."

Matthew chuckles as he leans forward in his seat, his blond curly locks frame his face perfectly. He calls, "Hurry up, then! I won't look, promise!"

The boy turns around and plays on his mobile phone. Gilbert flusters as he struggles to get dressed. Why is he so tongue tied? Usually he's the one that's cool and collective, but this time, it's Matthew. He changes and once he's fully clothed again, he cues for the other to turn around and starts the ignition.

"Okay!" Matthew beams. "So, where are we going?"

"Don't you worry about that, doll," Gil gains his confidence back. He pulls an auxiliary cord from the car's center console, plugging it in and handing the other end to Matthew. He offers, "Play anything you want, and I mean anything."

Matt jams the remaining end into his earphone jack and scrolls through his phone, smiling giddily. Then, the vocals of Patrick Stump fills the car and the teen bites his lip and raises his brows as he clutches his phone in excitement.

"_She says she's no good with words but I'm worse. Barely stuttered out a joke of a romantic stuck to my tongue… I'm two quarters and a heart down, and I don't wanna forget how your voice sounds. These words are all I have so I'll write them, so you need them just to get by."_

"So, this is your Fall Out Boy, now is it?" Gilbert remarks.

Matt nods and sings along, "_Dance, dance, we're falling apart to half time. Dance, dance, and these are the lives you love to lead. Dance, this is the way they'd love if they knew how misery loved me."_

The foreigner hums along, since he knows absolutely none of the lyrics. Nonetheless, he enjoys basking in the younger boy's secondhand excitement. He looks so carefree and innocent, something Gilbert realizes only recently he needs back in his life in some shape or form, whether it be in himself or in the comfort of another.

"_Why don't you show me a little bit of spine you've been saving for his mattress? I only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me."_

Gilbert comes to a generalization that he rather likes the watching Matthew listen to music. As creepy as it sounds, he can't help but to smile when he smiles, laugh when he laughs, it's almost like the boy has a contagious ray of sunshine that never sets. And Gilbert feels a positive difference, for a change.

After the first song ends, the next one is another Fall Out Boy song. Go figure. Mattie beams and quietly sings along, "_Baby, seasons change but people don't, and I'll always be waiting in the backroom. I'm boring but overcompensate with headlines and flash, flash, flash photography. But don't pretend you'll ever forget 'bout me, don't pretend you'll ever forget 'bout me."_

Gil takes time to let that line sink in longer than the average listener probably does. _Don't pretend you'll ever forget about me._ That's a nice thought, to not be forgotten by someone. Too bad that is never usually the case for most of his friendships/relationships. But, maybe, Matthew is a new start. Or, more realistically, he's thinking way too far into some stupid old song lyrics.

Mattie's soft spoken, sing-along voice brings Gilbert back from the far off place his mind oftens tends to wander to. "_We do it in the dark with smiles on our faces. We're dropped and well concealed in secret places, we don't fight fair."_

Oh, wouldn't that be the dream? Matthew and him, just the two of them, alone together, perhaps in his bedroom with the lights out. Gil twitches and condemns the thought from his dirty mind. He's too young for him, that would just be weird, wouldn't it? Though, the more he thought about it, the more it sounded like fate, like that's how God intended for him to spend the rest of his days. Oh, Lord, he always hated how his mind could just drift off, sometimes.

The passenger side window rolls down unbeknownst to the driver's knowledge and the culprit starts singing to the next song playing, "_Last year's wishes are this year's apologies. Every last time I come home, I take my last chance to burn a bridge or two. I only keep myself this sick in the head 'cause I know how the words get to you."_

"_We're the new face of failure, prettier and younger but not any better off. Bulletproof loneliness at best, at best. Me and you, setting in a honeymoon. If I woke up next to you, if I woke up next to you. Me and you setting in a honeymoon. If I woke up next to you, if I woke up next to you."_

"How do you even know what he's saying?" Gil starts a conversation to distract his wandering mind. "It sounds like he's barely speaking English!"

"That's rich coming from you," Matthew wittily remarks. "But I guess I'd have to say that it's because I've been listening to them for so long that I've learned the lyrics, or figured out what he's saying because I know how he sings. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, it does," Gil rests his eyes on the road ahead. "But that still doesn't help me learn any of the lyrics."

"Here, listen to me," Matt raises his index finger and awaits the next refrain. He sings the part just as fast as the singer, like he's listened to the song a million times before today and has the lyrics down pat.

"_Collect the bad habits that you couldn't bear to keep. Out of the woods but I love a tree I used to lay beneath, kissed teeth stained red from the sour bottle baby girl with eyes the size of baby worlds. We're the new face of failure, prettier and younger but not any better off. Bulletproof loneliness, at best, at best."_

"Holy shit, that's impressive!" Gilbert sputters. "How did you know that!"

"I don't know if I'd call it impressive," Matthew disagrees. "It just shows that I used to waste all my time listening to music."

"Is that what you liked to do when you were an underclassman? Listen to music?" he attempts to keep the dialogue going, trying to learn a little something about the blond boy.

"I don't think there was a time when I _didn't_ have earbuds in," he jokes. "But I didn't have many friends, so I just kept to myself and hoped high school would be over with before I knew it."

Gil raises his eyebrows and clicks his tongue, "Aw, you don't feel the same way now, do you?"

"No, of course not!" Matt reassures, glancing out the now open passenger side window occasionally. "I have Irina, and Francis, and Antonio, and most importantly, you. I think that's all I need, eh?"

"Erm, uh… yeah!" Gil stumbles over the correct words to say. It's like as his common sense walks out the front door, so do his good words! It seems like his heart just cannot handle a compliment from someone as cute as Matthew. "But is that the attitude you had going into high school?"

"Yeah, I absolutely hated it," he confesses, his eyes glued to his cell phone screen. He retorts, "I think when I was a freshman I wanted so bad to just drop out and move the hell out of my parents' house."

"What do you mean 'you think'?"

"I mean, I know that was only four years ago, but I can't remember things clearly anymore," Matt explains. "Like, I'll think something happened but in actuality, it never did. It's just my mind replacing memories with fake ones, if I'm making any sense."

_Shit,_ Gilbert mentally curses. He's completely forgotten about Matthew's memory loss, it's just that unnoticable. "Oh, right! It's like I just completely forget about that! Tell me more, about your accident and everything that happened after it."

"Well, I think I was in the eighth grade, so I was about fourteen or fifteen when it happened," Matthew begins. "I was riding bikes with Alfred and we had to cross a busy street, and I wasn't fast enough because I got hit by a car."

"Holy shit," Gilbert exclaims. "How did you lose your memory? Did you hit your head on the road, or something? Is that how you split your skull?"

"Oh, I forgot I told you some parts of the story," he retorts. His fragile hands point to his forehead and then to the back of his brain as he narrates, "I hit the front of my head, or the frontal lobe, on the hood of the car, and the blow was enough to knock me out cold. I then landed on my back and nearly destroyed what's called my oculomotor nerves, which caused my eyesight to go out."

"How did you know those fancy words? And what do they mean?" Gilbert entertains the idea. Matthew is not bothered by his overwhelming questioning, however.

He chuckles amusedly, "Your frontal lobe is responsible for your basic motor skills, like memory, language, and social and sexual behaviors."

"So, when you hit that part of your head," the German puts two and two together, "that's what caused your amnesia."

"Yeah, there you go!" Mattie congratulates.

"Okay, so what about that oc–octo–whatever the second thing you said was."

"Oculomotor?" he fills in the blank. The adult nods and the other continues, "Well, when I fell down from the impact, I landed on the back of my head, or it's called the occipital lobe. Since I had damn near whiplash from hitting that car, I crashed pretty hard, so I damaged my oculomotor nerves severely. And since the oculomotor nerves are responsible for your sight, you can only imagine why I needed glasses after that."

"Wait, when we first met, you told me that you had glasses because your eyesight was already damaged!" Gillie theorizes. "And that's why you got hit by that car!"

"Well, now that you know that whole story, can you blame me?" Matt adjusts his folded hands as a nervous habit, Gil assumes. "It is a pretty long story, and a boring one, at that."

"Nuh uh! That's totally badass!" he disagrees. "I don't know anyone with a cooler story than that!"

"Gee, thanks, Gil," Matthew glares at him from the top of his glasses. "But I'm pretty sure that there's someone who has a 'cooler story' than I do."

"I mean, the closest thing I have is a couple pretty bad scars from that car wreck I got into when I was eighteen. But even they fade with time, and the story behind them isn't even that memorable."

"Are you talking about that time you told me when you drove drunk to Vegas by yourself?" Matthew asks more proactively, probably now that he's found a way to take the spotlight off of himself.

"Yeah, that was kind of dumb of me, now that I look back on it," Gilbert admits. "I was a stupid kid that made equally stupid decisions."

"Being too young to drink and then traveling all that way by yourself," Matthew interrupts quietly, "only to find out that you aren't coming home because you got hurt. That would kill me if you did that now." He swivels his neck up to look Gilbert in the eye as best as he can, "Promise you won't do something that dumb again? Promise me?"

"Y–yeah of course, Birdie! I would never!" he tries to lift the younger boy's spirits from down in the dumps. "I'm much more mature than I was two years ago, trust me!"

Matthew grunts an inaudible, "okay", and brushes off the incident by confessing, "You know, I've never been to Vegas before."

"Really? Never?" Gilbert coughs, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to steal a quick glance at the passenger. The other shakes his head and he scoffs, "Man, are you missing out! It was the most fun I've had!"

"I think I'd like to go someday," Matthew makes a soft note. Gilbert nods and smirks as he devises a plot. "What're you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I take you to Vegas one day, just you and me. Sound like fun?"

The soft spoken teenager smiles wholeheartedly as he balls his fists in pure excitement, "Oh boy, would I!"

"So it's a plan? You'll come to Vegas with me?" Gilbert confirms. Matthew shakes his head and he releases a raspy laugh, "Cool! We'll just have to figure out a date!"

He smiled and nodded along. After a few moments of silence, Matt eventually confesses, "You know, no one's ever gone this far out of their way to include me."

"What do you mean?" Gilbert asks. He chuckles to keep the atmosphere light, "I'm definitely not pushing myself to hang out with you, if that's what you're talking about!"

"I don't know," he gazes out the window once again. "It's just, I haven't had a best friend for eighteen years of my life," he glances back at Gilbert, the wind whipping through his blond locks, "and I can't help but to be kind of suffocating sometimes."

"No, no! You're not suffocating at all!," Gil reassures. "Actually, I kind of like it. I like that kind of attention."

"Really?" he looks up wistfully at him. "I mean, I guess Irina's always kinda been there for me, but I never counted her as a best friend. If you asked me at the time, I guess I would've said so, just so I wouldn't seem like a loner."

"Oh, Birdie!" Gilbert coos. "I wish I had talked to you sooner! I definitely would've been your best friend!"

The vehicle comes to a stop in an Olive Garden parking lot and both boys unfasten their seat buckles. Gilbert rushes over to the passenger side and opens the door for Matthew, which earns him a warm smile from the teenager. The two enter the restaurant and take their seats, Matthew being the vegetarian he is Gilbert makes sure to order a animal cruelty-free dish, as well. A few minutes into their meal, Gilbert starts the conversation back up again, as he is still curious about Matthew and his past. He tries to act cool and reclusive, but then again, he just tricked Matthew Williams into going on a date with him. That _is_ some pretty sneaky stuff, no wonder he can't keep his cool.

"So, Mattie," he awkwardly begins with a slight cough. "This is nice, isn't it?"

He nods and glances around the diner. "Yeah, I really like it here."

Gil motions his head towards the younger one's plate of pasta and asked, "Do you like your food?"

"Yeah, I do," Matthew nods once again. "You know, nobody takes me into consideration when we go out to eat."

"Really?" the albino is astonished. "I would think that with your diet they would figure out a way around it."

He shook his little blond head, "Not really. Like, when my family goes out to eat, they either don't listen to my suggestions or just ignore me altogether."

"That sounds horrible!" Gilbert exclaims. Matthew chuckles as if he's told the story a thousand times, and receives the same reaction.

"It's no big deal, really!" he reassures. "But, I really do appreciate you bringing to a place like this, that's vegetarian friendly. Although," he bounces his eyes from his dish to the adult across the table, "I thought you said that you didn't like me being vegetarian."

"I mean," Gilbert coughs slightly to the side. "I've taken time to adjust to it."

Matthew giggles and returns to his lunch with the most beautiful smile on his face, Gil's heart beat going a mile a minute. If he doesn't confess sooner or later, it will surely kill him! Matthew is the most sweet, patient, kindhearted person he has ever come to know, and it's like he can't hold it in any longer. Gilbert wants nothing more than to finally grow up, and perhaps with Matthew by his side.

"So," Matt's soft like velvet voice brings Gilbert back from the depths of his imagination. "I wonder what everyone's doing in English class. I hope we don't miss a lot of work."

Gil swats his hand in the air and scoffs, "There's nothing to worry about! You've been thinking too much! Just sit back and enjoy your time off!"

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Matthew plays with his fork and pans his eyes downward. "I can't help it sometimes."

"I know," Gilbert says in a low tone, his eyelids cut. He doesn't even know how serious he makes the atmosphere with this actions, and apparently, Matthew notices. Then he accidentally makes eye contact with the teenager, the intimacy lasting approximately five seconds, but feeling like a century. Gilbert breaks the connection as fast as it was made, and glances around the room anxiously. "Oh hey, I don't mean to be a downer, but I have some pretty bad news. I kind of forget to tell you earlier."

Matthew bats his eyelashes the way that only he can and acknowledges, "What is it?"

"The school called last night," he starts reluctantly. "Well, you know all about how I keep going in and out of suspensions. Because of that, I couldn't attend class, so as of right now I currently have, like, a zero percent in every single one of my courses."

Gilbert rests his cheek in his palm as he awaits Matthew's reaction, said blond's eyes widen with utter shock and surprise. He exclaims, "Gillie, this isn't good! You know what this means–"

"I'm probably not going to graduate this year, either," he sighs with defeat, his breath shaky.

Mattie unexpectedly reaches his hand all the way across the for Gilbert's to soothe his worries, and coaxes, "Well, don't worry! 'Cause I'm gonna help you pass this time!"

"You… you really mean it?" Gil asks in disbelief, looking hopefully up at him. The teen nods and emits a small chuckle.

"I promise! I'm gonna do everything I can to make sure you're up on that graduation stage with me!"

Beilschmidt smiles and sits up proper again, Matthew takes his hand back, unfortunately. The pair continue their meal and discuss study methods to help the young adult in graduating and as they do so, Gil can't help but think how lucky he is. Here he is, in a sticky situation that most people wouldn't even bother to help him with, and Matthew is so proactive to offer his time. The last time he was in danger like this, Antonio and Francis were kind enough to assist him to pass. Bless their hearts, but their help was not adequate and his failure was inevitable. But Gilbert feels like this year is truly his year. He's finally going to pass! He's finally going to be a high school graduate!

Lunch soon ends and the pair leave the restaurant with little time to spare. They board the vehicle and Matthew is quick to resume playing his old favorite band once again. Gilbert starts the ignition and asks, "So, where do you want to go now?"

He hums like heaven to the tune of the Fall Out Boy song playing, "Miss Missing You", but is still somehow halfway present in their conversation. "Oh, I don't know, Gillie. School lets out in a couple a minutes, and I don't think I'm allowed to stay after today."

"Well, what's Alfred doing?" Gil delves deeper.

"He's going to Arthur's house."

"And your parents?"

"Mom's at work, and I think dad's with his girlfriend."

He cringes internally at that sentence, but smiles, nevertheless, "Perfect! We'll hang out at your place! And when you're mother comes home, we can just say that you were tutoring me."

"Yeah, that could actually work," Matt caves in, the wheels of the convertible speed out of the parking lot and towards the Canadian's address.

Upon their arrival, Gilbert parks the car in the Williams-Jones driveway as Matthew leads the way with the house key in hand and opens the front door. And as he does so, Gil can't help but to think that it all just feels so right. Driving with Matthew in his passenger seat, his shitty music blaring for any passerby to unfortunately hear. The two of them unlocking the front door and walking into a house… together. Maybe Gilbert is just reading way too far into this, and he's just in too far over his head. But it's a nice scenario to think about now and again, and he is entitled to his own private thoughts, isn't he?

Matthew paves the way with Gilbert trailing behind and they settle up in his quaint little bedroom, dropping off car keys and bookbags to make themselves look busy. The teenager yawns exhaustedly and plops on his mattress to open his laptop, leaving the other boy to just stand there awkwardly, not knowing if he should join him or just sit on the floor. Mattie plucks and eyebrow and scooches over to make room, patting the bed and inviting, "Well, don't just stand there."

Gil shuffles over and makes himself comfortable, both boys now lying on their stomachs staring at the computer screen. Matthew breaks the long silence by asking, "Oh, did you still wanna see my screenplay? I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to, I just now remembered it."

Gilbert perks with excitement as he leans closer to the younger one, "Hell yeah I do! Read it to me, tell me what it's about!"

Matthew cracks a small smile as he pulls up the document. He further explains, "Well, I wrote this story originally way back when I was a freshman, so it's seen a lot of changes over the years. But essentially, it's about a girl named Madeline who has a bad home life, no friends, an unhealthy relationship, and just a pretty shitty life in general. But she's okay with it because her character archetype says that she disagrees with conflict and change, so she is prepared to have her boring life stay the same for the sake of comfort. That is, until her boyfriend suddenly dumps her and her friends and family start ignoring her more and more. She thinks that it's the end of the world, but then she meets another girl named Julie her senior year of high school. Julie is a troublemaker and is definitely no better than Madeline's last boyfriend, but her heart's in the right place, and they end up becoming one of the greatest love stories ever written."

Gilbert bats his eyes at the incredible story telling and applauds, "That… that's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. And you came up with this all on your own?"

"Well," Matthew sucks his teeth. "You know how a writer's inspiration works, right? A little bit of inspiration is picked up from old, worn out ideas and is made new again. Some are from the author's spite to become better than the competition, to become better than himself. And rest comes from the writer's own desires and personal experiences, to make the story a little more realistic."

"To me it sounds like you didn't care much about making the book sound realistic," Gil takes a step in the dark. Matthew raises his brow at him. "It sounds like you needed someone to talk to. It sounds like Madeline is Matthew, if you know where I'm coming from."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Matthew hangs his head low, his smirk smitten. "I mean, I guess I _do_ share a lot of qualities with my main character, now that you mention it. But does it really mean anything?"

"Well, _I_ think so," Gil nods. "At least, it tells me that maybe you have gone through what your character has gone through, is that true? And maybe, what your character wants is exactly what you want, am I right?"

Matthew purses his lips, refusing to reveal anything personal. Gilbert exhales heavily and begins to gently play with the other boy's curly locks to annoy the answer out of him. He whines, "Birdie, don't ignore me! You won't get rid of me so easy!"

Matthew continues to ignore his childish advances, as he keeps staring at his computer screen and opens up a fresh tab. Gilbert watches along with him and his crying eventually dies down as he asks, "What are you doing now?"

"I'm on Tumblr," Mattie responds coolly. He lays back on his stomach, resting his chin on the other boy's shoulder to make it seem like he's trying to get a clearer view of the screen but, in actuality, is just trying to lowkey flirt. Gilbert is a simple man, he likes to think, and only wants the simple things in life. He knows he'll most likely get rejected in a series of awkward chuckles and eye rolls, but he can at least try, right? And much to his surprise, Matthew overlaps his head atop Gil's, and continues browsing.

"What's a Tumblr?" Gilbert asks, hoping to learn more about the Canadian. "Are you going to show me?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Matthew complies. "I mean, I understand completely. It common that the elderly have a hard time grasping the concept of modern technology, and I just wanna do my part to help."

Not wishing to lose his comfortable position he risked everything to get, Gilbert settles for clamping his feet down onto Matthew's, scolding, "Shut up, canuck!"

"Hey!" Matthew yelps. "That really fucking hurt!"

"Shush, shush!" Gilbert hastily hushes, placing his brawny hands over his soft features. "I don't think you're right for cursing! You're too sweet for that!"

Matthew lowers his brow bone and rolls his eyes, returning to his internet searching instead of coming up with a witty comeback. "Anyway, you wanna know what Tumblr, do you?"

"Yes," Gilbert gushes, placing his head back on Matthew's shoulder. A perfect, comfortable fit. Like it is meant to be. "How long have you had your Tumbly-Tumblr, or whatever it's called again?"

He giggles, and explains, "I've had mine for about four years. I think I was a freshman when I first made my account."

"Whoa! What do you post? How many followers do you have?"

Mattie chuckles and remarks, "You're really interested in what I like?"

"Of course! You're very interesting, and sometimes, I don't think you know that," Gilbert surprises himself with that one. The boy's cheeks go bright pink, and he knows instantly what he's dealing with.

"Well, I like to reblog stuff about Supernatural these days. I used to post all kinds of things, but now that I don't really go online, my blog is filled with the Winchesters and Castiel," he proceeds. His lengthy fingers stroke the trackpad as he reads aloud, "And as of right now, I have seven thousand, one hundred and eight followers."

"Holy shit, Mattie!" Gil exclaims. "How can you take that lightly! You're, like, practically famous!"

He shrugs, "Eh, it's no big deal."

"Now I have to ask," Gilbert raises his eyebrows suggestively, "how did you get all of those followers?"

Matthew laughs and debunks his implausible theory, "No, nothing like that! I used to make edits and gifs and stuff like that for Supernatural. And I did a couple of giveaways, if I remember correctly."

"Oh, I see," Gil nods. "But, surely, you have some embarrassing stories, right? Things that have happened on Tumblr that maybe no one else knows about?"

Smitten at first, Matthew eventually gives in to the offer and begins, "Alright, but you gotta swear on your life that you won't tell anybody. Not a soul!"

"Yeah, yeah! You've got it!" he complies.

Matt unexpectedly sits up, legs criss crossed and pinkie finger extended. "Promise me, Gillie! This is serious!"

He sits upright as well, and locks little fingers with the younger cutie, promising, "Alright, alright! You have my word!"

Matthew nods with a serious expression on his face, until it is exchanged for a more silly one, and he takes a deep breath in. "So after my first giveaway, I got a ton of followers, and really fast, too. And when my birthday rolled around, some people and friends asked me what I wanted. Trust me, I was reluctant at first, but I ended up sending them my Amazon wishlist and let them buy me stuff."

Gilbert drops his jaw and retorts, "Birdie! You're a gold digger!"

"But that's not all," he reveals. "No, it gets much worse."

He plucks a brow and questions, "What are you talking about?"

"Well," Matt sighs before explaining. "I eventually just linked my wishlist into my description for everybody to see. And then people would buy stuff for me whenever instead of just on my birthday."

"Really!" Gil blurts outs. "That's so sketchy! Why would you do something like that!"

"Don't judge me!" he hides half of his face behind his two loose fists, protruding from his sweater sleeves.

"Too late!" Gibert coughs. He glances around the room before asking, "But, like, what kind of stuff did people buy you?"

Matthew's eyes light up as he jumps off the bed and rushes to his bedroom closet. He rummages through its contents, and Gilbert soon follows after him. He presents a load of shirts, and explains, "People have bought me pretty much all of my band t-shirts, since mom and dad didn't approve me having an emo phase."

Mattie keeps digging, and adds whilst he's looking, "And people have also bought me most of my posters you see on the wall back there."

"What about the Supernatural plushies?" Gilbert asks.

Matthew answers from deep within the closet, "Oh! Those aren't official Supernatural merch, my one friend on Tumblr made them for me a long time ago!" He comes back out with products such as stationery and keychains, "And this is some anime merch from my weeaboo phase. Oh my God, I haven't even looked at half of this stuff in forever!"

"These things are so cute, and your clothes were dark," Gilbert observes as he paws at keychain. "What did you classify yourself as, exactly?"

"Well," Matthew's dimples cave in as his cheeks heat up. "I call it my 'emo phase' because I was more emo than I am now, I guess. If you're talking about the cutesy stuff, I don't really know. I've just always liked that kind of stuff."

"That's interesting," Gil begins helping sorting through the clutter in the bottom of the closet. Then, he comes across a furry headband, and he salvages it. "What is this?"

Matthew squeals and snatches the item from the boy, and reaches across him to fix it upon his head. Once situated, he sits back down and tilts his head from satisfaction and observes, "Oh my gosh, it's so cute!"

"But what is it?" Gilbert begins to reach for the hair accessory, but Matthew reaches a hand out to forbid it.

"Leave it alone! It makes you look nice!" he argues.

"What? And I don't look decent any other time?" Gil remarks. Matthew only smirks and chuckles darkly. He ends up feeling the hair piece and deriving from touch, deciphering what it is. "Are these… cat ears?"

"Yeah!" Mattie exclaims. "They're pretty neat, aren't they?"

"I mean, I guess," Gil assumes, toying with his new ears.

Then, he jumps from the blond's shrill yell as he discovers another item. He shoves a small, shiny object in his face as he animatedly elaborates, "Lookie what I found, Gillie!"

When his vision comes into focus, he sees Matthew holding a septum clicker with purple opal stones arranged perfectly in the bottom center. He squeaks again, not that Gilbert is complaining, "What size are you? I'm pretty sure this will fit, yeah?"

"Sixteen gauge," he provides almost reluctantly.

Matt smiles and screeches again, placing a hand on his knee and demanding, "Take your piercing out right now! You're putting this one in!"

"Okay, okay! Calm down, or you'll give yourself a heart attack!" Gibert jokes as he shoves his fingers in his nose to remove his septum jewelry. Matthew hands over the new stud and he puts it in place of his old one. After much adjustment, as the clicker is much more flashy than what he usually wears, and presents himself, "How do I look? Am I passable?"

Matthew's purple eyes scan him up and down and he bites his lip as he nods his head. "It's very pretty, Gillie!"

"Okay, so I have to ask," Gil starts, toying with the new piercing jewelry a little too much. "How come all of this 'girly' stuff is locked away in a closet?"

"You know I like it, right? Like, really like it?" he asks, the other student nods in response. "Well, mom and dad didn't like that I liked feminine stuff. I mean, mom was more forgiving, but dad was the one who didn't allow me to have anything girly. I had only worked summer jobs back then, and all of that money was going straight to my college fund so that when I graduated, I could move out and not be completely broke. I still wanted to get girly things since that's what I was into, but I wouldn't touch my funds. So, I went to Tumblr."

"Oh, I see," Gilbert purses his lips. He glances up at him and makes a bold move, "Let me ask you something; did your parents ever approve of anything you liked?"

He sucks his teeth and shakes his head, "Unfortunately, not really. Over the years, they've just kinda… put up with it, you know? It's probably because I'm not anything like Alfred; athletic, smart, talented, and, for all they know, straight. They compare me to him a lot, and it used to really get to me, but now I don't care at all, because I know that no matter what I do I'll never amount to half of what Alfred is to them. And you know what? I've become a little happier with myself accepting that."

"Whoa, I never would have guessed that," is all Gilbert can say. He raises his brows sympathetically and apologizes, "I'm so sorry you have to go through that, that's pretty horrible."

"It's not the worst thing ever," Matthew rests his cheek on his bent knee, his amethyst eyes moving up and down Gilbert's bulky and muscular figure for a moment, but returning to his face. "I'm sorry I got too personal, I know you didn't want to hear any of that."

"No, no, you're fine!" Gilbert denies. "Is it weird to say that I like to hear you talk about your problems?"

Matthew perks his posture up and bats his eyes, "Really? You're not kidding?"

He shakes his head, "You're the most fascinating person I know! I'd listen to you talk about Misha Collins for hours on end if it meant that I could just listen to you."

His original ivory shade gradually turns cherry red as he tries to hide his face from compliment. Gilbert grins, now knowing the secret to making Matthew blush on command. He brushes off the serious atmosphere by complying, "Now, I'm pretty sure you didn't get just the ears and no collar, right?"

Matthew smiles once again, gracing Gilbert, no, the entire world, with his beauty and giddiness. During the haul, Gil sometimes finds himself not even paying attention to whatever Matt is showing him, but instead just listening to him talk, watching him explain, his soft features almost too angelic to be real. This whole "crush" thing has gone completely out of hand. At first, it was just a fun thought to bounce around, but now, Gilbert is way too invested in him. But he doesn't know what to say, at least, the right things to say.

"Smile, Gillie!" Matthew giggles, holding his cell phone camera up at the decorated boy. He takes a quick moment to caption the photo before uploading it and showing it off. In the photoset, it displays Gilbert wearing the cat ears and matching collar, the feminine septum jewelry hanging from his nostrils to complete the look. Matthew's title just finishes off the entire shit storm that is their post, reading, "_when you're kawaii desu asf."_

Gilbert scooches over to look over Matthew's shoulder to see what he's typing and, in the tags, he put, "_my senpai!"_, "_idk I think I made him look p cute u guys"_, and "_he's gonna be with me for a little while longer if u guys wanna tell me what u think ;)"_

"Oh my God, Mattie," Gilbert laughs. "Are people actually going to send you messages about how ridiculous I look?"

"For one, shut up. It's not ridiculous, it's kawaii," Matthew corrects. "Secondly, hell yeah they are! Do you know how many notes the last selfie of you and I got?"

"How many?" he asks shyly.

"Over a thousand!" the boy exclaims with widened eyes. "To be honest, everybody thought you were hot. Like, really insanely hot."

Gilbert flusters as he stutters, "They did?"

"Yeah! I mean, what can I say? Tumblr likes your face, buddy." Matthew places a friendly hand on his shoulder, "And I'm gonna get as many notes from you as I possibly can."

Gil retorts and smacks his hand away sarcastically, "You jerk!"

The boys idle for a bit before Gilbert begins clawing at his collar, "Okay but seriously, I think that if I wear this collar any longer I might actually choke and die."

Matthew inches closer and paws at the bell, cooing, "But it makes you look so nice, Gillie!"

"But I'm losing air, Mattie!" he passively and sarcastically argues back. Matthew clicks his tongue and sasses him with his eyes before he leans over and unfastens the accessory for him.

"Okay, but you're keeping everything else on, right?" Matthew asks as he takes back the collar.

"Yeah, but, can I ask," Gil jumps on a conversation topic. "Why did you have the septum jewelry if you don't have the piercing?"

"Oh, well, you see," he crosses his legs and continues, "I was originally going to get the piercing and just hide it from my parents. Then I ended up deciding against it, but I had already put some jewelry on my wishlist and some lovely people already bought them for me." He scoffs as his eyes drift off during his storytelling, "I just told them that they were for a friend but, at the time, I didn't even know anybody with that piercing!"

Gilbert nods and Matthew gasps, "That's right! I have other jewelry for you! Oh, please tell me you'll wear them! They would look so good on you!"

The pierced individual in question laughs at his childlike antics and asks, "Why don't you go get them first?"

Mattie crawls over to the closet and scavenges until he presents him with a bag of baubles. "They're just regular horseshoe ones, nothing too fancy. You can wear that one in your face for special occasions, since it's the only nice one I have."

Gil smiles and agrees, "Whatever you say, Birdie."

Then, Matthew's phone goes off and he takes a break to check it. He exclaims, "We got a message, Gillie!"

"Oh no," Gilbert slides right next to the Northern American to look at the phone screen, as well. "What did they say?"

"_Anonymous said," _he reads aloud, "_whoa who's that hottie, Mattie?"_

Gil holds his icy hands to his fiery cheeks as he gushes, "Oh, gosh!"

Matthew smirks as he replies, "_just a random cutie I found ;)"_

Not long after, another notification pops up. He nudges the older boy as he reads, "_Anonymous said: he's real nice to look at that's for sure!"_

"I don't think I can take all these compliments!" he laughs with a blood red face. "I feel weird, like I'm selling my body or something!"

"Ah, c'mon, Gil! They're just nice folks on the internet who are just a little interested in you, that's all!" Mattie reassures with a grin on his lips. Nevertheless, he responds to the message.

"_Ikr? I'm sure lucky that he's with me, aren't I?"_

Gilbert observes Matthew respond to more messages, until he squeals with excitement out of nowhere. He leans on the muscular one to share the cell phone screen and exclaims, "Look at this message! It's from my friend!"

"_I admit, was worried about you, Mattie. But now I see you're doing more that just fine,"_ Gilbert recites, brow plucked and lips pursed. He looks over to Matthew and asks, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, Gillie!" Matt giggles to himself, returning to the phone to respond to the message. He further explains, "That's the friend who made my Supernatural plushies, Gil! We were actually friends for a few years! But I feel so bad because we barely talk these days!"

"How come you don't talk to them anymore?" he asks.

The blond shrugs, "I don't really know. We never had a falling out, I just kinda, stopped talking to them. And they stopped talking to me, so it was a mutual thing. It's not a bad thing, it's just a change in our lives. Do you know where I'm coming from?"

"Yeah, I definitely do," Gilbert agrees.

Before Gilbert can come back with any form of conversation, Matthew's phone continues to go off, and his inbox fills up rather quickly. Some of the messages were nice including, "_omg you're so lucky!"_ and, "_whoa congrats, Mattie!"_ Though, it gets Gilbert to think; how apparent is Matthew and his attraction for one another, if it be present at all? Because according to the other boy's Tumblr followers, it is very obvious.

Mattie's phone goes off once again, but this time it's a text message notification. He waits for the boy to message back, and he looks back up at him with an exasperated aspect, "Damn, I'm gonna be home all by myself again!"

"Who was that? Your mom?" Gilbert suggests. Matthew shakes his head.

"And I just texted Alfred, too. He's going to stay overnight at Arthur's house, which I don't really care about. But mom has to work the graveyard shift, so she's not coming home until really late tonight. And dad's not coming back until the end of, like, next week, or something."

"So, do you want me to…" Gilbert beats around the bush, "hang around until your mom gets back, or something?"

Matthew springs with excitement and unexpectedly wraps his arms around his neck, shouting, "Oh, would you? I mean, it's only for a few more hours, and you might get home pretty late. But it would mean the world to me!"

Gil pats him on the back and consoles, "Yeah, it's no problem, Birdie!"

He pulls out and makes brief eye contact with the young adult, and asks, "Do you wanna go downstairs and get some dinner, or something?"

"Yeah, let's go," he agrees, the pair heading back downstairs towards the kitchen. Matthew begins rummaging through the cabinets and Gilbert asks, "So, what did you have in mind?"

The Canadian pulls out a box of ready to make pancake mix and asks, "You like pancakes, yeah? Wanna make some with me?"

Gilbert smiles to himself and they start cooking together. Throughout their endeavour, his mind can't help but to wander and he starts thinking again. What if, in some crazy coincidence, that Matthew likes him too? Because watching the boy cook and clean in a house that perhaps one day belonged to the both of them could definitely be something he could get used to. He shakes the thought; it's impossible, that he would even give him a second glance, let alone start a new life with him.

"Gilbert!" Matthew calls for his attention. He pulls his head out of the clouds, and the boy chuckles, "What're you staring at?"

Gilbert finds himself leaning on the counter, closely observing Matthew as he cooks. It's like he's in a trance, staring off into space like he can't control himself. He shakes his head and continues his tasks, mentally scolding himself not to do that again. He can't let his little "crush" be so apparent, he can't let his true sexuality be so oblivious, if that's what's really going on. For the past little while, he has been acting different, and he can't exactly put his finger on it. Up until he met Matthew, Gilbert always thought that he was straight, but that all changed very quickly. Now, he's confused; he's liked girls all his life, but relationships with them have never worked out. Though, he feels as if a relationship with a boy would last a very long time, it's just a matter of if he's actually attracted to them. He takes a break from cooking for a moment to steal a quick glance at Matthew, standing there in all his angelic grace, and he whips his head back to himself.

_Nope, definitely gay,_ he thinks to himself, sighing. Well, at least the boy he fell for is cute, Gilbert will give himself that much.

* * *

"Matthew, I'm home!" Mrs. Williams bellows from downstairs. Matthew bolts up from Gilbert's lap and closes the laptop lid, ceasing their movie viewing.

He rushes out of the bedroom door and hangs over the hallway banister, yelling back, "Yeah, ma?"

"I finally got off from work—" she cuts herself off as soon as Gilbert staggers behind her son and mimics him, leaning over the railing as well. She bats her eyes and continues, "Oh, I didn't know you had company over."

"Yeah, I brought Gil over to help with homework, if that's okay," he clarifies.

"Who?"

He rolls his eyes, "Nevermind." Mrs. Williams walks to the kitchen and Matthew turns to Gilbert, "Well, I guess you have to go home now."

"Yeah, I guess I do," he agrees, reluctantly. They gather the boy's school things and head back out to the car. Then, out of the blue, Matthew wraps his arms around Gilbert's neck in a loving embrace, lifting his leg off the ground ever so slightly.

"Bye, Gillie," he starts. "Thanks so much for staying with me."

"Yeah, sure! No problem!" Gilbert stutters, still in shock. After a moment or so, Matthew still has his hold on him, so he awkwardly raises his hands to the small of the boy's back to embrace him back. Once Gil becomes more comfortable, he practically melts into Matthew, since the eighteen year old is taller than he is, much to his displeasure.

The rest of the evening plays out as expected; Matthew waves goodbye, Gilbert giggles to himself the entire car ride home, and he gets scolded at when he arrives at his own home for being hours past curfew. But, he does not regret this day, not in the slightest. Because he feels like he's learned so much about Matthew in their little "day trip" than ever before. Plus, who would pass up an opportunity to hang out with him? Although, the one thing he did regret was not confessing to him. Even if it was something along the lines of, "hey, I think I kind of like you but don't take it too seriously," would have been enough for him. Now, Gilbert is more determined than ever to tell Matthew of his feelings for him. So that the next time he leaves his house, he isn't leaving without a kiss.


	10. Chapter 10

Matthew paces around his bedroom, biting his fingernails as he scrolls through his previous text messages.

_Hey Mattie! I wanted to know if you would be interested in doing something with me later. I kinda have something to tell you._

_Well, yeah ofc! But what is it that you have to tell me?_

_It's pretty serious._

_Tell me, Gillie!_

Matthew's heart nearly pounds out of his chest as he waits for the other's reply. He doesn't know why he's so nervous, usually, he would be cool and collected. It's just, he can feel that something is wrong. Then, Gilbert finally messages him back, keeping his worrying mind at bay for a couple moments.

_No, I don't think it's something I can just say over text. But would you still be down for hanging out, say, in about 10 minutes?_

All the blood flushes to Matthew's head as he reads the latest message. Only one hour to prepare for this big news! He can't possibly do that, his anxiety will be through the roof! He will be a nervous wreck throughout the entire endeavour, he needs more time to calm himself down!

_Yeah, sure! I'll be ready!_

He tosses his phone onto his mattress and rubs his face in his open palms, muttering, "Why do I do this to myself?"

Matthew proceeds to get ready, knowing that this feeling of dread will not go away anytime soon, so he might as well just get dressed. He selects a basic outfit containing a short sleeve shirt and skinny jeans, hoping that he will just blend into the background. He slips on his Converse sneakers and takes this opportunity to get one last look at himself before he is off to God knows where. His worry is clearly written on his face, unfortunately. But he doesn't know why he's so worked up about this, it's only Gilbert! What can he possibly do to hurt him? Matt runs his fingers through his unruly, curly locks and gives up on looking even remotely cute. Oh well.

Then, a serenade of car honking comes from the front of the house, and Matthew jumps. He collects his phone and other necessities and begins heading downstairs, but, a strong grip on his shoulder prevents him from leaving the door.

"What is it, Alfred?" Matthew doesn't even bother to face his brother.

"Are you going out with _him?_" Alfred asks sternly. "I thought I told you to steer clear of that guy."

Matt turns around and looks the muscular one in the eye, an undiscovered passion now unearthed as he defends, "You know, Al, I go out of my way to cover your ass a lot. And all I ask in return is that I go out and have fun once in awhile. I'm not a baby anymore, and it's about fuckin' time you start letting me make my own decisions."

"But listen," he begins. "I swear to ya, Gilbert's no good! He'll mess up your life, and I'm just tryna' look out for ya!"

"I don't know what you think is going on between us, but he and I are just friends! So this argument stops now!"

Matthew walks out the front door forcefully, exhaling deeply. He hurries to the vehicle waiting for him and Gilbert greets him with an elated expression. "Hi, Birdie! What's good?"

Matt sighs and shakes his head, the argument with Alfred still fresh in his mind. Gil leans forward to try and make eye contact and asks, "Hey, is something the matter?"

"No," he lies, the truth smitten.

Gilbert caves his dimples in as his brows furrow. He blackmails, "I'm not driving until you tell me what's wrong."

Matthew crosses his arms and pouts for the added drama, eventually caving in, "Okay, fine! Just drive!"

The car takes off and Gilbert starts," Well, spill it! Tell me everything!"

He sighs, rubbing his temples and revealing, "It's nothing serious, I was just fighting with Alfred again."

"It was about me, wasn't it?" Gilbert unexpectedly catches on.

"He wouldn't leave me alone," Matthew looks back at him. "I'm sorry you have to be in the middle of this, you really don't deserve it."

"It's fine! I mean, I totally get it! I'm a twenty year old man hanging around some teenager, I get how creepy that can be to some people."

"But it isn't! And I wish Alfred could just see that!" Matthew balls his fists in his lap and argues, "I love him, I mean, he's my brother. He means the absolute world to me! But I just wonder about the way he thinks, sometimes."

"Well, from the perspective of an older brother," Gilbert offers his two cents. "Perhaps he's just looking out for you, and being completely suffocating is just the way he shows it."

"You really think so?" Matthew sighs and drops his shoulders.

Gil nods, "I know it seems like a lot right now, but the thing you have to remember is that it's all temporary. A year from now, who knows where you'll be! But I guarantee you that Alfred will not be lodged up your ass like he is right now. It's all about perspective; you have to wait for the rain to pass before seeing the sun again."

"You're really smart, Gilbert," Matt compliments. "No one's ever given me advice like that."

The German reddens and stutters, "Well, I don't know if I'd call it 'advice'. It's just stuff you kind of pick up on as you enter adulthood."

"Well, it's really helpful, thanks," he smiles as the other blushes like mad. His eyes light up as he recalls, "Oh! I forgot to ask where we were going!"

"Francis is having a small get together at his place and he, of course, invited the both of us!" he explains.

Matthew gasps and looks down at his attire, expressing, "Don't you think you should've told me that earlier? Look at me! I look like garbage!"

"No you don't! You're totally cute!" Gilbert reassures him. "But I didn't think that you would say yes, because the party scene isn't really your thing. So I had to be really sneaky about it!"

"Well," he rationalizes, "it _is_ Francis' house. It's not like I'm goin' anywhere fancy!"

"Yeah, that's the spirit!" the atmosphere lightens. "We're just going to have a few drinks, hang out for a little bit, and leave. It'll be fun!"

Matthew remains still, but shifts his eyes over to the driver. He _is_ aware of Gilbert's drinking problem, so how many drinks is "a few" drinks? What if he gets blackout drunk at the party and pulls some crazy stunt? And he expects to drive them both home like that? It's times like these where Matthew wishes he listened to Alfred.

The boys pull into the unexpectedly full driveway of the Bonnefoy household and park the vehicle. Matthew nervously steps out of the car and stands by Gilbert's side as they face the front of the house: loud music blaring, doors and windows wide open, and people already mingling on the front porch. It was a full house. Matthew glares over at the older boy and he gives a smug grin. He pushes him slightly on the shoulder.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt!" Matthew reprimands with a tomato red face. "I thought you said this was a small get together!"

"I thought so too!" he defends with his hands up in innocence.

Matthew shakes him back and forth and exclaims, "Then what is this!"

Gilbert giggles and wraps his hands all the way around the boy's frail wrists. "Calm down, Birdie! It's just a house party! What could possibly go wrong?"

"Everything!" Matthew inches closer, as so no onlooker could overhear their personal conversation. "I can't go in there, Gil! I physically can't do it! It's too much for me!"

"Matthew," Gilbert lowers his tone, with his hold still on his wrists. "I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you, you know that. Those people are probably thinking the same thing you are; concerned about how they look or what people are thinking of them. They might look at you for two seconds, but then they'll go right back to worrying about themselves. So the attention is really not on you, okay?"

"I… I guess you're right," Matthew compromises. He glances up at the other boy and asks in return, "But you promise not to ditch me?"

"Of course! I would never leave you!" he gives his word.

The pair slowly head inside, entering the ever thickening crowds of party goers. Then, Matthew reaches out for Gilbert's hand and interlocks their fingers together, for fear of losing him in the groups of people. He leads, more like pushes, the way to meet up with the host of the party.

"Francis, Antonio!" Gilbert calls out, waving his free hand to get their attention. They obnoxiously shake their arms to signal their friends over. "What's going on! You said it was going to be just us and a couple cool people. What gives!"

"Now, let me explain," Francis raises his palms and shrugs his shoulders. "It _was_ supposed to be us and a few other people. But _those_ few other people told _their_ friends, and _those_ friends told _their_ friends, and _they_ told _their_ friends, and _they_ told–"

"Yeah, yeah, we get it," Gil wags his hand to dismiss him.

Antonio eyes Matthew for a moment, but looks back at Gilbert and asks, "Did you do it yet?"

His crimson eyes light up with terror and he shakes his head, motioning his hand across his throat to cease the topic. The two teens look at each other and Francis blurts out, "Then, when are you going to?"

Gilbert takes a step forward to mutter a quick, "shut up", and Matthew tilts his head. What could they be talking about? What is he about to do? He looks at Gilbert and asks, "What are they talking about, Gil?"

"Nothing, absolutely nothing!" he shrieks. Matt plucks a brow and the other coughs, "So, why don't I go get us some drinks?"

"Whatever," he rolls his eyes.

The four break away into their respectable pairs and Gilbert leads Matthew into the kitchen. He lets go of his hand temporarily to raid the refrigerator, and he asks, "What do you drink?"

"I…" Matthew pauses and his cheeks redden. Gilbert turns around with and smirk and he finishes, "I don't know anything about alcohol."

The adult maliciously grins and bends back down into the fridge. He comes back up with two cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer and says, "You look like a PBR kind of guy, I'm guessing."

Matthew takes the can and slowly opens it, Gilbert still smiling as he watches him take a small sip. He comments, "You know, it's actually not that bad."

Gilbert slings his free arm around his narrow shoulders and leads, "Let's go sit down, Mattie."

They head to the living area and Matthew already immediately regrets agreeing to staying. The couch is filled up with couples going to second base and a few straggling groups of party goers laughing and drinking nearby. Gilbert leads Matthew to the only available seat, a single person arm chair. He jumps into the chair with a smirk and an eyebrow wriggle, the blond hovering over him and remarking, "You're an idiot, you know that?"

"But the type of idiot you kind of want to get to know, am I right?" Gilbert responds with so much confidence that it's a wonder his ego didn't erupt at that moment. He sighs and nods his head, the adult damn near bursting into tears from laughter. He pats his lap and invites, "Come a little closer, Mattie!"

Matthew gives up all reason and plops down in Gilbert's lap, swinging his long and lanky legs over the arm of the chair and leaning back. Gil grins devilishly as the other mutters quietly through his beer can, "Hi."

Gilbert smiles and looks around the room with an accomplished expression on his face as he banters, "You know, this is nice. I thought that just because things didn't go according to plan, this was going to be the worst night ever. But it's probably because I'm the life of the party."

"I think that's the secondhand high talking," Matthew takes another sip of alcohol. "Also, what _did_ you have planned? And what were Francis and Antonio talking about earlier?"

"Nothing!" he defends. "I just wanted us four to hang out and have a couple of beers! Because you did say that we were your best friends, and I just wanted all of us to hang out together!"

"Aww, that's so nice of you!" Matthew coos, but does not believe one bit of it. Sure, Gilbert probably would do something like that, but that's not the case here. Because if anyone knows Gilbert Beilschmidt, it's Matthew. But if that's not the real reason why he brought him out here tonight, then, what is? God, it burns a hole in Matthew's soul to even think about the possibilities. What if he pulls some crazy embarrassing stunt? Or tells him something he doesn't want to hear? He doesn't like to think about it, but it's the only topic his mind can tune to.

"Not that I'm not having fun or anything, but is this all we're going to be doing?" Matthew asks to break the conversational silence.

Gilbert finishes his current sip of alcohol to respond, "No, I just wanted to find a place to sit down and drink my beer."

"Oh, so you won't mind if I just…" Matt breaks off mid sentence to pull out his cell phone and snap a quick picture of the pair.

Gilbert nearly chokes to death as he sputters, "Don't tell me you're going to post that anywhere!"

"Chillax, old man! It's just for posterity!"

His crimson eyes glare as he takes another drink and Matthew bursts out laughing. Gilbert was right, this party isn't so bad. Maybe he can put away his worries for one night and just have fun. He looks over at his friend, who is clearly already tipsy, and takes another sip of his beer. Just then, their old friend Antonio comes over and waves them down. He walks up to their chair and asks, "Hey, guys! Francis and I were wondering if you wanted to play a game we got goin' on! We really want you to join!"

Matthew and Gilbert exchange suspicious glances as their buddy defends, "No, no, I promise it's fun! We got a couple of cool people already playing, you won't regret it!"

"Well, what game is it?" Gil asks.

"Slap or kiss!" Antonio exclaims. The boys look nervously at each other once again, until he finishes, "C'mon, man! Are you in or out?"

After pondering for a moment, Gilbert blurted out consent, and off they went. Matthew, on the other hand, was less than amused. Before entering the den area with the other players, he yanks on Gil's shirt to scold, "What the hell! What have you even gotten us into? I'm not kissin' some random kid!"

"Mattie, relax!" he assures. "Don't you know how this game even goes?"

He shakes his head and Gilbert gasps, "How have you never played! Well, it's very much like spin the bottle, where everyone gets in a circle and has to kiss whoever the bottle lands on. But in this version, the spinner has to leave the room and everyone not including the person who the bottle landed on has to vote whether the spinner gets slapped or kissed. Then, they come back and get what everyone voted for!"

"That _does_ sound kinda fun," Matthew admits.

Gilbert chuckles, "It's more fun when you're piss drunk, so drink up."

They finally enter the room together and Matt tries to take inventory on who is playing. He spots Francis, completely wasted in the corner, not unusual. Antonio is with his boyfriend, Romano. The rest are stragglers that Matthew can hardly remember. Maybe he knows them, maybe he doesn't. All he knows is that now he has to either make out with them or beat the living shit out of them.

"Okay, everyone! Gather 'round!" Francis calls for the players' attention. With a wine bottle in hand, undoubtedly emptied by him, the Frenchman places the glass in the center of the room as the rest of the crowd gathers around it. He clears his throat, "Now, who would like to go first?"

"I think Matthew does!" Gilbert shouts. Matt punches his arm in a half playful-half serious kind of way as Francis' face lights up.

"Okay then, Mattie! Spin the bottle!"

Matthew reaches his trembling hand across the floor and flicks the glass, his heart races and nerves fire up. What if it lands on someone he doesn't know? And what if he has to kiss them? And it's not like hitting them isn't any better. Then, the mouth of the bottle slowly lands on the host of the game himself, Francis Bonnefoy. He holds his hand over his heart and squeals, "Oh, what an honor! I feel so blessed! I'm just so happy right now!"

"Okay, now get out, Francis," Antonio shushes him out of the room. He reenters and begins the poll, "Alright, raise your hands for kiss."

Four people raised their hands, and Matthew felt his stomach drop. "Okay, now raise your hands for slap." Only three. _Shit_. "Francis, you can come in now!"

The boy comes in as giddy as ever and sits back in his spot, eyes closed and lips perches, awaiting his impending kiss. Everybody could have voted for slap and he'd still be expecting a kiss, that's Francis Bonnefoy for you. Matthew leans forward and, ignoring the teen's lips, pecks his nose instead. He flutters his eyes open and everyone begins laughing, but it's a good kind of laughing. Like they're laughing with him, not at him. It feels nice for once.

Francis giggles and says, spinning the wine bottle as he does so, "You're such a sweetheart, Mattie!"

It seems to take forever as the bottle finally slows down and lands ironically on Gilbert Beilschmidt. He flashes Francis the stink eye as the spinner shrugs his shoulders, "That's the name of the game, Gil! Now go out in the hallway!"

He reluctantly steps outside the den and Francis begins the polling. "So, how many for kiss?" Only three raise their hands. "For slap?" Matthew chuckles and raises his hand along with the other three voters, ultimately deciding Gilbert's unfortunate fate.

"'Kay, Gilbert! You can come in now!" Francis beckons. The boy comes and sits back down and closes his eyes tightly, more than likely bracing for the worst. Then, Francis swings his hand back and mildly strikes Gilbert in the cheek, and the whole room goes in an uproar, laughing hysterically and crying tears of joy. Hell, Matthew would be lying if he said he didn't join in, as well. Gilbert cradles the injured side of his face and, after taking a quick glance at Matthew, chuckles along with the crowd.

"I guess I deserve that!" he claims. "You slapped the drunk right out of me, Franny!"

Francis smirks and continues with their game, "Okay then, Gil. It's your turn!"

He flicks the bottle and Matthew can feel his heart pounding yet again. What if it lands on him and they have to kiss? What if it lands on another person and he has to kiss _them_? The blond takes another sip of his beer to hopefully stop thinking, but his heart stops when the bottle slowly lands on him. Panicking, Matthew can only look at Gilbert, as it seems like he's frozen in place.

Francis claps his hands and shoos, "Alright, Mattie! Outside you go!"

His knees can barely hold him up as he hikes out of the den. Breathing is becoming harder and harder to do, like someone has a hold of his throat and won't release him from this Hell. Matt burps to hopefully get rid of the feeling of butterflies in his stomach, but all it gets him is a little bit of vomit in which he quickly swallows back down. He knew this was _not_ a good idea; coming to this party with Gilbert, leaving the house when he wasn't supposed to, and above all, underage drinking! Who is Matthew even kidding? He's going to get grounded, never see Gilbert again, all because he just can't say no to a friend? Because he thinks he's so cool? That running around with a well known badass will make him cooler? Matthew takes a deep breath before reconciling with himself.

_It's because I like that badass, isn't it_, Matthew asks himself. _But somebody like him will never like somebody like me._

Just then, the den door flies open and Francis calls, "Come on, Mattie! Sorry to keep you waiting!"

He reenters and takes his seat beside Gilbert once more. His eyes close and he waits for the inevitable. But, much to his surprise, he doesn't get hit. Yet he also doesn't get kissed. Gilbert quickly presses his heated cheek against Matthew's and makes the smacking sound, imitating a kiss. Matthew opens his eyes just in time to see him pulling out, red faced with total embarrassment. Of course, the entire room starts bursting with laughter, all expect Matthew. He stares at Gilbert absentmindedly, as the corners of his lips curve into a smile. He chuckles almost as hard as the rest as their peers, his head in his lap and cheeks warming up. Gilbert raises his eyebrows and babbles, "What are you laughing at!"

Matthew looks up at him and exclaims, "You're such a dork, Gillie!"

* * *

Matthew hangs tight to Gilbert's hand as he follows him like a lost puppy dog. They venture upstairs and into Francis' bedroom, the German forbidding the couple previously occupying it attempting to make love on his bed. Once they were finally alone, he heads to the window, prying it open and inviting the other boy.

"What the hell are you doing?" Matthew exclaims. "I'm not jumping out the window!"

"No!" Gilbert corrects. He hops out onto the roof and offers his hand, "Just trust me on this one."

Matthew goes with his gut and takes Gilbert's hand. He heaves the teenager out onto the flat roof with him and they are net with the clear, sparkling night sky. His eyes lock on the ethereal above, as if he is mesmerized by it. He glances back at Gilbert to discover the red eyed rebel gazing at him like he was at the sky, like he was as beautiful as mother nature. Their eyes met for one moment before he looked away, not knowing what exactly to say after something like that.

"So," Gilbert awkwardly started, tapping his fingers on the shingles of the roof. "The stars look pretty, don't they?"

Matthew looks up and smiles, agreeing, "They sure do."

Gilbert's chest rises up and down as he sighs, his eyes flittering around anywhere except on Matthew. The blond, now curious of his conditions, scoots closer to him and asks, "Are you okay? Is something wrong?"

"No, of course not!" he reassured. "Why would you say that?"

"You're acting funny." Matthew decides to drop the subject and start with a new topic, "Anyway, what did you bring me out here for? Is it about what you said earlier? That you had something to tell me, right?"

Gilbert coughs into his fist and turns his head slightly, "Er, yeah, I did."

Matt inches the slightest bit closer, making Gil even more on edge for some reason, and exclaims, "Then, spill it! What's on your mind?"

"Well, it isn't exactly easy to say," he rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks reddening with every passing second.

"Depending on what it is, maybe you could do it better than you could say it," Matt proposes. "Again, depending on what you're talking about."

Gilbert's whole body looks tense as he attempted to get whatever it was off his chest. Matthew was very confused; what could be so nerve wracking that _the_ Gilbert Beilschmidt was on his knees in total weakness? Then, with brows furrowed and hearts flying, he leans in and plants his lips on Matthew's. Is this even reality? Hardly!

Gilbert's hands slip behind his ears as his thumbs caress his cheeks. His fingers gently toy with his curly locks as his emotions set ablaze. Matthew is too frozen in delight to do anything, this is not at all what he expected! When Gilbert pulls out, he maintains his closeness, like they're sharing the same alcohol, cigarette reeking breath.

Matthew smiles as he tries to make eye contact with Gilbert, and he whispered, "So I guess that's what you wanted to tell me, huh?"

Gil chuckles and leans in again and quickly mashes his lips on Matthew's, this time, the blond fully aware of what's happening by kissing him back. Matthew clutches his wrist as their kiss becomes more passionate, and Gilbert cradles the small of his back as he leans even further in. They separate again as the German sighs and stares at the boy for a moment.

"Hey, Mattie?" Gil asks.

Smiling,he responds, "Yeah, Gillie?"

"I think I kind of like you," he confesses, a tinge of red spread across his cheeks. Matthew wraps his arms around his neck and leaves a quick peck on the lips.

"It's okay, I like you, too."

* * *

_AN: Happy holidays everyone! I hope you've had a good day, and thank you so much for reading!_


End file.
